


The Tropical Adventures of Moony & Padfoot

by picascribit



Series: Survivor's Guilt [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bartenders, Beach Sex, Beaches, Canon Compliant, Embedded Images, Getting Back Together, Letters, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Vacation, Werewolves, caribbean, tropics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-25
Updated: 2010-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:43:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/picascribit/pseuds/picascribit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1994: After twelve years in Azkaban and a year on the run, Sirius is looking forward to sand and sunshine and a little time spent getting reacquainted with a certain werewolf, but Remus seems hesitant to rekindle their romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Correspondence

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story has not been edited yet, and may contain unintended problematic elements and tropes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art in this chapter "Don't Stop Me Now" by Shishio. Used with permission.

> _Dear Harry,_
> 
> _I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post._
> 
> _Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about the owl's reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job._
> 
> _I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted._
> 
> _There is something I never got round to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt. Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from Gringotts vault number seven hundred and eleven -- my own. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather._
> 
> _I would also like to apologise for the fright I think I gave you, that night last year when you left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you._
> 
> _I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable._
> 
> _If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me._
> 
> _I'll write again soon._
> 
> _Sirius_
> 
> _P.S: I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat._

 

* * *

> _Howler,_
> 
> _B and I are well and have been traveling. Don't worry; we are being careful. Haven't seen any "Spookies" in days. I miss you. I'm still planning on job hunting someplace warm._
> 
> _\- Snuffles_
> 
>  

* * *

> _Snuffles,_
> 
> _I saw the papers the other day. Careless, that. You'll give an old man a heart attack if you're not careful. I need to get a few things organised. Warm sounds good. Let me know what the job prospects are like. Looking forward to seeing you again._
> 
> _\- Howler (apparently)_
> 
>  

* * *

> _Howler,_
> 
> _That wasn't carelessness, but a Bold, Brilliant, and Carefully-Calculated Strategic Move. I'll tell you all about it later, and you can tell me how Clever I am, "Old Man". I'm looking into the jobs I mentioned in the SW, on the fair isle of Norris-by-Crookshanks._
> 
> _\- Snuffles_
> 
>  

* * *

> _Snuffles,_
> 
> _Your cleverly coded message is received and understood. And there you go with the emphatic capitalisation again. I thought I cured you of that years ago. Will have to have another go at it soon, I expect. Anyway, I shall be traveling in the company of a certain Portuguese royal of dubious parentage. Look for me before the next marauding. Two can play at this coding game._
> 
> _\- He-who-is-resigned-to-being-called-Howler_
> 
>  

* * *

> _Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,_
> 
> _I shall be taking an extended summer holiday very much by myself in a place with many warm and sandy beaches. I hope you will keep an eye on the rodent situation, and send word if anything develops. I am always happy to receive news about Harry, too, if there is any. There was a time when he was family, and it is my hope that he may be so again one day._
> 
> _Warmest Regards,_  
>  _Remus J. Lupin_
> 
>  

* * *

> _Dear Remus,_
> 
> _Our mutual friend wrote to inform me of your travel plans (using highly-circumspect language, I might add!), and I have replied with a few accommodation suggestions which might prove useful in your unique circumstances. I do hope you will enjoy your tropical holiday. I myself have never seen the point of visiting any place where the wearing of socks is impractical. If there is any news of Harry or of any interesting members of the Muridae family, you may count on me to keep you informed._
> 
> _Many grand adventures,_  
>  _Albus Dumbledore_
> 
>  

 

  



	2. Aboard the Príncipe Mestiço

On an afternoon in mid-June, somewhere west of the British Isles, former Hogwarts professor Remus J. Lupin lounged in a deck chair with a colourful iced drink at his elbow, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, waggling his bare toes, and feeling very strongly that all was right with the world. If he noticed that it was raining, he gave no sign of it. 

Following an emotionally-fraught year teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, culminating in a near-miraculous catharsis, he was taking a well-deserved holiday. The sunny Caribbean awaited. And so did Sirius. He let the thought radiate deliciously through his brain. After thirteen years of gray, lonely numbness, he could begin to rebuild his life once more. 

Sirius -- _Damn him!_ \-- had managed to delay Remus's departure by a day or two with his maddeningly-encoded messages. It had taken Remus nearly a full day with an atlas and a magnifying glass to figure out what exactly Sirius had meant when he said he would be waiting for him at "Norris-by-Crookshanks". Making his research doubly difficult were the feelings of excitement and anticipation rising inside him -- feelings he had not experienced in more than a dozen years -- and he had found it nearly impossible to sit still. 

He grinned to himself at the thought of what he must have looked like, leaping around his shabby flat, flinging brightly-coloured clothing into his well-worn trunk, and singing at the top of his lungs like a love-struck teenager. The LP had been dusty, and long unplayed, but Remus had nearly made up for all the years of neglect in those few days, playing it over and over again. He had only turned down the volume long enough to phone about travel arrangements. 

Apparition was difficult at such a great distance, and the journey was too long to make by broom, mediocre flyer that he was. He did not wish to draw attention to himself by using the more public methods of Wizarding transportation, such the Floo Network or a portkey, the arrangement of which would have been prohibitively expensive in any case. For that reason, he had booked passage on a Muggle ship, the _Príncipe Mestiço_ *, and was now making his leisurely way toward paradise. 

He had just closed his eyes to properly savour thoughts of the miraculous return of Sirius to his life and what it might mean for them both, when a laughing female voice somewhere above his bare feet said, "That's never Remus Lupin!" 

He squinted up at the broad smile, blonde hair, green eyes and freckles above him, feeling distinctly at a disadvantage due to a total lack of recognition. 

Seeing his confusion, the young woman laughed again. Before his eyes, her features began to change. Her hair and eyes darkened, her freckles faded away, and her pointed nose became slightly snubbed. 

Remus's mouth dropped open in shock. " _Nymphadora_? That's a hell of a disguise spell." 

"I'm a Metamorphmagus," she told him, flopping into the deck chair next to his. "Remember? And it's just 'Tonks' these days." 

"You can't have been more than eight the last time I saw you," Remus said in a slightly stunned voice. 

"That's right," Tonks replied. "Not since --" She looked suddenly embarrassed. "Not since I was a little girl." 

Remus realised what the source of her discomfort must be. Tonks was the daughter of Sirius's favourite cousin, Andromeda, who, like Sirius, had been disowned by the intolerant Black family for her lack of regard for the purity of her blood. She had married a Muggleborn wizard, Ted Tonks. They had often visited Remus and Sirius, bringing young Nymphadora with them. These visits had, of course, ended when Sirius had been arrested and sent to Azkaban. 

He gave the girl a reassuring smile, and patted her hand. 

"So what brings you to the wonderful world of Muggle transportation?" she asked, introducing a change of topic rather hopefully. 

"It's a long story," replied Remus. "But the short version is that I've just spent a year at Hogwarts teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, and I felt in need of a holiday." 

Tonks whistled. "I heard that post was cursed. We never had anyone last more than a year in it when I was at school." 

"Nor when I was there," chuckled Remus. "And I fear I'm continuing the tradition." Not wanting to go into his reasons for resigning just at present, he quickly asked, "And you? What are you doing out here upon the deep?" 

"Oh," she said, blushing. "I just felt the need to get away for a while." 

Remus gave her a knowing look. "Unhappy romance, was it?" 

Tonks blushed a deeper shade of red, but smiled ruefully. "Oh, it was unhappy, all right. Whether you could call it a romance or not is debatable." 

"Do tell," encouraged Remus, pleased for once to be the sympathetic listener with few woes of his own. 

She sighed wistfully. "He was great. Smart, funny, handsome, kind -- a real gentleman. One of the few men I've met who hasn't asked inside ten minutes of finding out I'm a Metamorphmagus if I can make my tits bigger. Sorry." She put a hand to her mouth in embarrassment. 

"Mmmph," Remus nodded. "Gay as a maypole, then, was he?" 

Tonks snorted. "Got it in one! I feel so _thick_! I can't believe it took me so long to figure it out. God, I could have used someone like you around to point it out to me six months ago." 

"Sounds like you did have someone like me around." Remus could not help grinning. 

"What do you --?" The puzzled expression on her face slowly changed to one of dawning comprehension. She stared at him, openmouthed. "You're --? You're _not_ \--! Are you?" 

Remus burst out laughing as she smacked herself theatrically on the forehead. "Oh my God! You and Sirius! I am _so_ thick! I never even thought --! All those times we visited you guys --" She looked at him, stricken. 

"It's all right," he told her reassuringly. "We were fairly quiet about it, for obvious reasons. I wouldn't have expected you to figure it out, especially not at eight." 

"But --" Tears filled her dark eyes. "But, that's _terrible_! I mean, what he did. Of course, I always thought it was terrible, but that's just -- how _awful_ for you, Remus! I'm _so_ sorry!" 

Much to his surprise, she threw her arms around his neck, sobbing as if her own heart had been broken. Remus squeezed her shoulder with one hand, and patted her awkwardly on the back with the other. 

"It's all right," he soothed at her. "It was all a -- a long time ago." 

She released him, sniffing loudly, and nodded, staring at him with miserable, puffy red eyes. "Here I am, telling you my pathetic woes --" she trailed off damply. 

"It's fine," Remus assured her again. "Your woes are -- very refreshing. So, you decided to get away from Mr Unattainable for a while?" 

"Yeah," she replied, looking glumly at her toes. "I just finished my Auror training, and I thought now would be as good a time as any to just get away from the whole Wizarding world for a bit. You know; explore my roots. See how the other half lives. Muggles, I mean." 

"Auror training?" Remus was impressed. The path to becoming a Dark Wizard catcher was a demanding one, requiring a wide range of skills, as well as a shrewd mind, and an ability to handle oneself under pressure. "That's really fantastic. Congratulations!" 

"Well, being able to change my appearance was really handy for the disguise bit, but apart from that, I don't think I'm very good. I'm really clumsy. See?" She showed him a large bruise on her upper arm. 

Remus nodded thoughtfully. He would have to be very careful what he said about Sirius around her. As an Auror, she was authorised to put him at the mercy of the Ministry of Magic. But young Nymphadora had loved her cousin. He had heard the disbelief in her tone just now when she spoke of his betrayal. If he could make her see the doubts that had been so instrumental in guiding him to the truth over the past year, then perhaps -- But he would have to go about it carefully. 

A thought occurred to Remus which made his stomach clench. "Er -- so, what are your plans for the summer?" he asked, jamming a casual tone into his voice. 

"I don't really have a plan," she admitted. "I thought I'd tour the islands. Meet some Muggles my own age. Maybe have a bit of a summer romance to get Mr Unattainable out of my system." She grinned. "What about you? Off to the Caribbean by yourself, eh? Is romance in the cards?" 

The way her eyebrows waggled with indelicate suggestion was disturbingly familiar to Remus. He cleared his throat. 

"Er -- no plans either. Just thought I'd rent someplace small, and spend some time on the beach." 

"Nothing wrong with that!" she said with a laugh. "Hey, maybe I could come stay with you for a bit. Split the rent, you know? Where were you planning on stopping?" 

"Ah -- that could be nice," he lied, casting about desperately for a way to put her off. He could think of nothing more likely to kill the romantic mood than having Sirius's young Auror cousin hanging about all summer. "I'm going to be staying on Cat Island. It's -- er -- really small, and I don't think there's much of a night life. I hadn't heard of it being a big destination for young people -- not straight ones, anyway." 

It was a lie, but Tonks clearly did not know it. 

"Oh," she said, rather disappointedly. "Maybe not, then. It might not be such a good idea to spend my summer hanging around with gay men, after -- well." She grinned and gave him a wink. "Especially not good-looking, smart ones with brown eyes." 

"Beg pardon?" Remus blinked. 

She stood, still smiling. "See you around, Remus." 

Remus sat, stunned, staring out at the point where the gray sea met the gray sky. 

_Did she just --?_ He shook his head. Well, at least this voyage would not be boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Portuguese: "Half-Blood Prince"


	3. Cat Island

Cat Island was less than fifty miles from end to end. Remus had an overwhelming impression of green and a lot of sandy coastline and very little else. As the ship drew closer, the harbour came into view, and it was only a moment or two later that Remus was able to make out the fuzzy black dot waiting at the edge of it. 

In that moment, the excitement and anticipation which had held him in their grip for nearly three weeks turned to fear. Doubts assailed him. 

_What if it's too soon? What if I can't be what he needs? What if we've just changed too much?_

He tried to shake off these treacherous thoughts and feel nothing but the joy of knowing that, within an hour, he and Sirius would be together again, but he could not dispel the blanket of worry which they had laid over his mind. Drawing a deep breath, he forced down the rising panic. 

_We'll take it slow. After all, we have plenty of time. It will be all right._

He devoutly hoped that it would be. 

As the ship pulled in to the dock, he checked his luggage one last time, and hugged Tonks goodbye, wishing her a good summer wherever she ended up spending it. She had listened with a sympathetic ear to his "doubts" about Sirius's guilt, and he thought he might have made some headway in making her believe at least that something had been odd about the circumstances of Sirius's "crimes". She kissed him on the cheek as he disembarked, pestering him to write her if he ever needed someone to talk to. 

His feet had barely touched the sun-warmed boards of the dock, when he was bowled over backward and enveloped in a storm of black fur and dog breath. A sailor called out and came running to his aid, attempting to extricate Remus from the bear-like dog's exuberant welcome. 

"I'm so sorry, Sir. He's been sitting here all morning, and hasn't bothered anyone at all until now. I don't understand --" 

"It's all right," gasped Remus, slightly winded, burying his hands in the thick, warm fur and firmly holding the dog off himself. "He -- er -- belongs to a friend. I'll just take him along with me, shall I?" 

With a last quizzical glance at man and dog, the sailor shrugged and went about his business. Remus gave the dog an arch look. 

"You might try acting a bit more dog-like on an island entirely populated by Muggles, you know." 

The black dog whined, and then broke out in a doggy grin. Remus sighed. 

"I can pick up my bags later. Why don't you show me this place Dumbledore mentioned?" 

The dog turned and trotted away, Remus following behind. The harbour town was small, and soon they were walking along a sandy path between palm trees, silent but for birdsong and the distant crash of waves. The tropical sun beat down, and Remus was glad for the shade of his straw hat. 

After about fifteen minutes, the dog stopped in front of a thick grove of trees and turned to wag his plumed tail. 

"Here?" Remus asked skeptically, peering into the shadows. 

It was more of a hut than a cottage, and looked as though no one had lived in it for some time. A faded "to let" sign was pinned to the door, which, when Remus gave it an experimental push, creaked open to reveal a dim and dingy sitting room with two darkened doorways leading to kitchen and bedroom. 

"Very homey," he quipped. 

"I knew you'd like it," said a rough voice behind him. "You know, you look ridiculous in that hat." 

Turning, Remus had one brief glimpse of Sirius -- thin, grubby, wild-haired, beautiful -- before finding himself suddenly enveloped in a second enthusiastic greeting, this one involving much less fur, but more hands and lips. 

For a moment, he allowed Sirius to kiss him, savouring the urgent mouth on his own, despite the fact that Sirius had clearly not had an opportunity to bathe properly or clean his teeth in some time. Then his earlier panic overwhelmed him, and he found that he could not breathe. He broke away, taking a step back and looking around as though keenly interested in the house. 

"So -- er -- Dumbledore recommended this place, did he?" he asked awkwardly. 

"Yeah," Sirius replied, and when Remus looked up to meet his eyes, he read disappointment in them, and looked away guiltily. 

"It's not very much like the cozy holiday cottage I imagined. Did Dumbledore mention why he was recommending it?" 

"He did." Something like smugness was back in Sirius's voice, much to Remus's relief. "Close your eyes, and I'll show you." 

Obligingly, Remus closed his eyes and held out a hand, which Sirius caressed briefly before grasping it and tugging him through the house. A door opened, and Remus felt a change in the air that meant they were back outside. 

"Open your eyes!" 

Remus blinked. "It's an outhouse," he said, puzzled. 

Buckbeak the Hippogriff, crouching behind the ramshackle structure, made a low, cawing noise, and Remus took a step backward. Buckbeak did not seem overly keen on the scent of werewolves. 

"It does look like that, doesn't it?" agreed Sirius, reaching absently to scratch the Hippogriff's feathery head. "But watch this." 

The door, once opened, proved to be a thick slab of iron, with only a thin covering of weathered wood on the outside. Inside, rather than a small, enclosed space with seating for one, there was a stone stairway that led down into darkness. Remus stared. 

"For full moons!" Sirius declared triumphantly. "Some members of the Order hid out here once, Dumbledore said. It's called a 'bum shelter'." 

"Bomb shelter," Remus corrected automatically. "Remember, I told you about bombs? Big Muggle weapons that blow things up?" 

"Oh, right." Sirius peered down into the darkness. "Well, that makes more sense. Want to go down and have a look?" 

"Er -- perhaps not just now." 

Sirius shut the door and turned toward him. Remus could see the questioning look in his eyes -- knew that if he just stood here and did not move or say anything, in a moment Sirius would be kissing him again. The half of him that was not consumed with self-doubt wanted it to happen. Sirius took a breath and leaned forward. Remus looked away. 

"Not -- not yet," he heard himself say hoarsely. "It's too soon. I -- want it to be right." 

"Oh," said Sirius flatly. "Okay." 

They stood awkwardly for a moment, not looking at one another. 

"We -- we should go back into town," Remus said at length. "I need to get my bags, and I can phone about this place." 

"All right," Sirius said, but he did not sound as if he thought it was all right at all. 

* * *

It was difficult, at first. It was not in Remus's nature to keep himself from Sirius, but they soon managed to settle into a routine, finding things to do and talk about to cover the awkward silences. 

For one thing, there was the cottage to be seen to. It would take a lot of work to make it habitable, but the price was right, and the bomb shelter in the back was an undeniable asset. Sirius, who had never been very fond of cleaning, took great delight in being allowed to perform magic after such a long time, and did not mind so much being asked to whisk sand, dead leaves, and dodgy-looking insects from the corners of the rooms. He even surprised Remus by modifying a tooth-whitening charm to brighten up the dingy whitewash. 

Sirius himself wanted tidying up as well. Remus conjured him a washtub filled with steaming water, and ordered him into it, trying very hard not to watch the pale, thin frame lowering itself into the water. 

"Scrub my back for me, Moony?" 

Remus hesitated, but Sirius's voice was free of suggestive tones, and he relented. If he took a bit longer about soaping the planes of Sirius's shoulders than wisdom dictated, while Sirius, eyes closed, looked blissful, well, there was no harm in that. He barely resisted the urge to plant a kiss on the back of Sirius's neck when he finished. 

Afterward, Sirius's loins now safely wrapped in a brightly-coloured beach towel, Remus felt able to look upon him somewhat more objectively. 

"You want a haircut, Mr Black." 

He himself had opted to allow his hair to grow, and neglected to shave. Since one side effect of Lycanthropy was more rapid than normal hair growth, he was already looking quite scruffy. 

Sirius reached up to run a hand through the matted tangles, and winced. "I do, at that!" he declared. Haunting gray eyes looking into Remus's. "Cut it for me, Moony?" 

_What is this? Seduction by maternal instinct?_ Remus thought wryly, but he consented. 

"Besides," he reasoned, conjuring sharp scissors, "I don't know how widely your picture was circulated on the Muggle news. Could be there's people here who know to look out for a walking corpse with a head like a Thestral nest." 

Sirius chuckled. "So it's a makeover, then, is it? Short hair, Muggle clothes, plenty of sun -- and I've been thinking about getting fat. I think it would be a good look for me." He patted his sunken belly. 

Laughing, Remus replied, "We'll see about feeding you up later. Haircut now, though. Sit." He pointed to a chair he had brought in from the kitchen. 

Sirius scrambled to obey, nearly losing his towel in the process. It was only quick reflexes which preserved his modesty. He held his breath, eyes closed, as Remus cut away great clumps of long, matted hair, then gently combed out the cropped snarls, before carefully trimming the uneven locks. When he felt Remus running his fingers through the end result, he tilted his head back to rest on the other man's hands and opened his eyes. 

"How do I look?" he asked. 

"Like a much tidier corpse," replied Remus, but his voice was soft and rough. 

"Remus?" he asked just as softly, holding the liquid brown eyes with his own. "Are you at all glad to be here?" 

The corner of Remus's mouth trembled slightly. "Of course I am, Padfoot." 

* * *

They also had Harry to talk about. Two days after Remus arrived, he helped Sirius draft a letter to his godson, wishing with all his heart that he, too, could send his greetings to the boy, and remind him that Sirius -- and presumably Ron and Hermione -- were not the only ones thinking of him. But no one could know that he was with Sirius, or even that he might know where Sirius was, or they would both be in danger. Instead, he summoned an enormous tropical post bird, and watched as Sirius tied the letter to its leg and sent it on its way. 

Between job-hunting excursions, Remus and Sirius shared Harry stories. Sirius spoke of his fond memories of Harry as an infant, and his pride at Harry's daring rescue of himself and Buckbeak, and Remus told tales of the boy's accomplishments in the classroom, and his determination to face and fight the very thing he feared. 

"Good thing, too," commented Sirius. "Or I might not be here now." 

Remus gave Sirius's hand a brief squeeze. "Remind me to thank him, next time we see him." 

Sirius laid his other hand over Remus's, and leaned toward him, eyes intent. But before Remus could pull away, Sirius let go, shaking his head and getting up from the sofa that was Remus's bed. 

"I'm going to go check on Beaky," he said, turning away, but Remus heard the catch in his voice. 

He wanted to go after Sirius, but what comfort could he offer? He was not ready, damn it! The great tide of feeling inside him constantly tossed him this way and that, but he could not give in to it until he was sure that doing so would not harm Sirius or break his own heart, so newly whole. But starting at the beginning again was impossible after everything they had shared, especially when his dreams were filled with Sirius's scent, and the feel of Sirius's skin under his hands. 

He thought things might be easier once they found jobs, but that turned out to be harder than he had expected. Not for himself -- despite his lamentable inability with potions, he managed to procure a part-time job as a bartender at a local tourist spot with relative ease -- but Sirius, having few skills which might serve him in the Muggle world, and minimal experience interacting with Muggles at all, found job hunting both awkward and frustrating, which did nothing to improve his mood. 

Remus embraced his new job. He liked standing behind the bar, hearing people's stories and handing them colourful drinks -- people who neither knew nor cared that he was a werewolf, a wizard, a homosexual. Banji, the bar's owner, was a friendly man with curly hair and a complexion like coffee and fresh cream. He called Remus "Johnny" -- his Mugglish middle name -- and Remus could guess from the way Banji smiled at him sometimes why he had hired him so eagerly. 

Remus usually got home very late, ate whatever he could put together quickly in their meagre kitchen, and fell onto the sofa with a quick "good night" to Sirius. 

But he could not sleep. He would lie awake for hours -- sometimes until pink light began to filter through the palm trees beyond the open window -- and fight with himself, knowing that Sirius's tossing and turning in the next room meant he slept badly, too, and wanting nothing more than to walk through that door, pull back the blanket and lay himself down beside the man he loved. 

Sirius had stopped pressing for Remus's affections after a few days. He did not ask for anything, but the occasional longing looks Remus caught tore at his insides and weakened his resolve. But he was still so fearful. 

_If we move too quickly, we might break what we have. And what do we have, really?_ he thought bitterly. _Maybe we're just two horny thirty-somethings who haven't had a shag in years, and want to relive the good old days._

He needed to be sure of Sirius before he could give himself over unreservedly. He needed to hear Sirius say he still loved him. Remus knew from the looks and touches that Sirius still wanted him -- maybe even needed him -- but that was not the same thing. Could a man still truly love after twelve years in Azkaban? Or had his heart been turned to a hollow shell, filled with memories and dust? 

_I can't ask him, though,_ he resolved, burying his face in his pillow. _If he knows I'm waiting for him to say "I love you", he'll say it without a second thought. I don't want that._

But Sirius had never been one to throw around those words lightly. Remus thought he could probably recall every single time Sirius had said them, and he treasured those moments more than gold or air or life itself. He needed to hear those words again, spoken from the heart, before he could be sure. Until then, he would wait.


	4. Harsh Moon

Sirius was trying to be good -- really, he was -- the thing was, he had never been very good at being good. Remus had instituted a "hands off" policy, and Sirius had abided by it as well as he was able to for a week. But now, the full moon was upon them, and in Sirius's experience, the full moon almost always changed the rules. 

Remus was _different_ during those times. He seemed to exist closer to the surface of his own skin, and in all his senses. Sirius could always tell. He did not even have to look into the night sky to know the time was approaching; Remus's eyes told him first. They changed in the days before from soft brown to a liquid gold that almost seemed to glow, and the look in them when they beheld him had always made Sirius shiver. It was predatory -- possessive. If there was ever a time when cautious Remus Lupin might throw caution to the winds, this was it. 

Sirius spent the day before the full moon watching, hopeful, breathless. He remembered dozens of pre-moonrise afternoons which had left him bruised and sore and unutterably happy, and he hoped with all his being that this would be one of them. 

He had already had one such night, he remembered guiltily. Last year in the Shrieking Shack, the wolf had taken him almost violently just after moonrise. He did not think Remus recalled that occasion, however, and what he wanted was for the man to choose him; not just for the beast to claim him. 

Remus had been distant since his arrival on the island -- not quite cool, but definitely reserved. Sirius craved the reassurance of Remus's touch and love and passion. He wanted desperately to know that everything was all right between them, and that this was only a new and wonderful beginning. In the dozen years he had spent in Azkaban, and in the year of turbulent freedom which had followed, he had longed for little else. 

Today, as the sun slid slowly down the sky, Sirius could see the wolf rising in Remus's eyes. Remus did not go to work that evening, but prowled the cottage, seeming unable to keep still. Sirius knew that the wolf's preternaturally-heightened senses informed him of Sirius's fear and his desire, and he was torn between wanting to respect Remus's wishes to maintain some distance, and the overwhelming wish to push him over the edge, just to see what would happen. 

_It's a compromise,_ he told himself. _I won't lay a hand on him; I'll let him come to me._

Instead, he told Remus what he wanted with his eyes, smoky gray with need, and he could see that Remus understood. 

He had only taken his eyes off Remus for a moment -- had just ducked into the bedroom to fetch his wand for something -- when he felt a hand close around his arm in a grip like iron. He turned, heart pounding, to find molten gold eyes burning into his, and a thoroughly unfathomable expression on Remus's face. A second hand closed on his other arm, hard enough to leave bruises, but Sirius didn't care, because Remus's beautifully-carved mouth was so close that nothing else in the world existed, and Sirius could not have torn his eyes away if his life had depended on it. 

Then Remus's body was pressed tight against him, his mouth urgent and demanding, and Sirius yielded completely with a moan of relief. _This_ was the Remus he remembered. With this Remus, Sirius always knew where he stood: directly in the path of wild, untamed desire. 

But Remus was still trying to hold himself in check. He broke the kiss and stood, gasping for breath, still clutching Sirius tightly against him. Sirius could feel his moment slipping away, and risked a few words. 

"Moony, please." He could feel the leaping pulse in Remus's throat fluttering against his lips as he spoke, sending a delicious shiver running through his body. "I need you. And I know you need me. Please." 

Remus went utterly still. Sirius did not dare to breathe. Then, with a low growl, he spun Sirius around, shoving him face-down onto the bed. He could hear the sound of Remus fumbling with his belt, and then of clothing falling to the floor. For several breathless seconds, he waited, fingers clenched in the blanket, heart pounding in his ears too loudly to hear anything else. And then he heard the clang of a heavy iron door slamming shut. 

A sob of frustrated longing tore at his throat. Cursing, he grabbed his wand and threw himself out the door and into the night beyond. 

"Moony! Remus! Let me _in_ , you bloody bastard! Please! Don't --" 

Tears of frustration and despair coursed down his cheeks, but no amount of shouting, pounding, or _Alohomora_ made the slightest bit of difference. The door was locked and barred against him, and when thumps, crashes, and howls answered his cries, he knew that the door would not open again that night. 

With a sob, he sank to the ground, his back against the slab of iron that separated him from his mate and from his sacred, self-appointed duty. Door or no door, the great black dog must be there for the wolf. He transformed and laid his muzzle between his paws to await the dawn, with only a fugitive Hippogriff for company. 

* * *

A loud burst of birdsong awakened Sirius at sunrise the next morning, and he staggered to his feet, transforming as he did so. 

" _Alohomora_!" he rasped, his voice hoarse from shouting, and the heavy door swung open with a reluctant screech. Last night's sealing charm had apparently been a temporary one. 

"Moony?" he called tentatively into the darkness. "Moony, can I come down?" 

There was no answer 

With a quick " _Lumos_ ," he made his way gingerly down the stone steps into the echoing chamber below. The cell was small and bare, with concrete walls and floor. Sirius's eyes fell upon the still, pale, blood-smeared form sprawled in the corner by the stairs. 

"Moony?" Sirius said again softly, crouching down and reaching to gently touch a thin shoulder. 

Remus's flesh was cold, and looked almost gray in the wandlight. Sirius grasped him by the shoulder and shook him, perhaps more roughly than he had intended. 

"Remus!" 

No response. 

"Oh, God!" Sirius's throat was tight with fear. 

He gathered the inert form in his arms, rocking back and forth. Was he breathing? How did one check for a pulse? He didn't know. Would a Muggle doctor be able to help? Where could he find one? He couldn't just leave Remus in this state. 

Panicking, he did the only thing he could think to do. With one arm, he clutched Remus's body to him, and with the other he poked him in the thin, pale chest with his wand. 

" _Ennervate! Ennervate! Enner-fucking-vate_ , goddammit, Remus!" he sobbed. 

At last, a tiny moan answered him. He dropped his wand with a clatter, and cupped Remus's face between his hands, pressing his forehead against that of the semiconscious werewolf, and went quietly to pieces. 

After a moment, Remus coughed weakly. "Someone once told me that Blacks don't cry," he whispered hoarsely. "Did the rules change, and I missed it?" 

Sirius drew back. Now that his fear had passed, he was angry. Remus had almost _left_ him. 

"You scared the fucking piss out of me is what you missed!" he seethed. "Merlin's flaming _arse_! I thought you were _dead_ , Remus!" 

"Unfortunately not." Remus coughed again, painfully. "But I soon will be, if someone doesn't get me something to drink." 

For the moment, Sirius relented. Remus was clearly ill and very weak. Shouting at him could wait until he was better. He swiftly conjured a stretcher and a blanket, and floated Remus up the steps and into the cottage, gently depositing him on the bed. 

Remus looked no better by the light of day. Carefully tucking the blankets around his now-trembling limbs, Sirius set a glass of water by the bed, gave firm orders not to die, and went out to search around the house for herbs with which to brew a restorative tea. When he returned ten minutes later with a steaming mug, Remus was sitting up against the pillows, gingerly sipping at his water. Sirius decided that he was now permitted to be angry again. 

"Drink this," he said roughly, taking the water glass from Remus's hands and shoving the mug toward him instead. "It'll taste awful, but it's better than you deserve, you unforgivable bastard." 

Remus squinted up at him. "What did I do?" 

"You nearly went and _died_ on me, that's all!" declared Sirius, throwing his hands in the air. "I almost _lost_ you! Why didn't you tell me you were ill?" 

Remus sighed and set down the mug on the nightstand. "I'm not ill, Sirius" 

"You bloody well are!" 

"I'm not," replied Remus, a little more firmly. "I'm a werewolf, just like I've always been. That's all it is. I'll be better in a day or two." 

Sirius stared at him in disbelief. "Bollocks. Full moons never used to half-kill you. And I saw you three times in the past year. You were fine." 

Remus grimaced. "I was fine then because Severus brewed me the Wolfsbane Potion. It makes the whole process easier. But I haven't been 'fine' for a long time, Sirius. I'm getting older, and the moons get harder every year. The human body isn't meant to take that kind of strain. There's not many werewolves who make it past fifty, you know." 

Sirius felt as if the rug had been yanked out from under him. Remus was getting older, and someday he would die. Maybe someday soon. Fifty had seemed a long way off when they were both twenty, but now -- He grasped at the only straw of hope that had been offered. 

"But the potion makes it better?" He willed his voice steady. "Fine. I'll learn how to make it. I'll go to Snivellus on my hands and knees, and beg if I have to. Kiss his greasy arse, suck him off, whatever it takes. Because you're not bloody dying as long as I have anything to say about it!" He realised he was shouting again and shut his mouth. 

Remus was chuckling weakly. "Don't worry, Padfoot; you won't have to do anything distasteful. Severus only made me the potion because I don't have the skill to make it for myself, but every werewolf registered with the Ministry gets a copy of the recipe. I just lost mine and didn't think to ask for another one, since I'm useless at potions anyway. I can write and get another copy. I'll do it today, if you like. It might take a few weeks to get here, though." 

Sirius let out his breath in relief. Remus was not going to die, after all. At least, not soon. They would have many long years together. And who knew? Maybe one day, if they lived long enough, someone would discover a cure for Lycanthropy. 

"I'm sorry, Moony," he said softly, sitting down on the bed beside him and reaching for his hand. "I didn't mean to yell. But you didn't see you. It was scary." 

Remus lowered his eyelashes and gave Sirius's fingers a weak squeeze. "I know, Padfoot. I'm sorry, too." 

"I couldn't help remembering that time you really were ill," Sirius said quietly, turning Remus's hand over in his, and tracing the bones of his fingers. "Remember?" 

It had been in the spring, a year after they had left Hogwarts. Remus had refused to see a healer because he said they never cared if a werewolf lived or died. But he had trusted Lily Evans, and she had worked in the St Mungo's Potions lab, which made her almost as good as a healer. 

Lily's green eyes had been troubled throughout the examination. Afterward, she had taken Sirius aside. 

"I'm not a healer," she had reminded him. "But I think he might die if he transforms in this state." 

"What should I do?" 

Sirius had never especially cared for Lily; he had mostly seen her as a nuisance who frequently got in the way of a finely-crafted prank, or as a minx who distracted the attention of his best friend. But at that moment, when she had held his heart in her hands, he had trusted her absolutely, and would have done without question anything she had told him. 

"I remember," Remus said, setting down the empty mug. "I was too ill to travel by wizard means. You emptied your bank account and bought two tickets to Finland. We stayed there all summer. The sun never set, and I didn't change." 

Sirius nodded. "Lily was brilliant." 

Remus smiled sadly. "She was." 

Sirius leaned back against the pillows beside Remus, still cherishing his fingers. 

"Moony," he began tentatively. "Why wouldn't you let me in last night?" 

Remus gazed at the hand in Sirius's keeping. "I was afraid," he said. "Afraid of what might happen. Of what I _knew_ would happen if you were there. I don't want it to be like that. But mostly, I was afraid that I'd hurt you." 

Sirius was silent for a moment as Remus settled himself back on the pillows and closed his eyes. 

Then, "Moony?" 

"Hmmm?" 

"Can I -- can I stay here with you? While you sleep?" 

Remus sighed, but did not open his eyes. "I don't think that would be a very good idea just yet, Padfoot." 

And then he was asleep.


	5. Johnny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise if I have done a poor job of rendering a Caribbean accent into text. Please do not hesitate to make suggestions concerning how I might improve it.

It was two days before Remus felt well enough to return to work. During that time, Sirius was not precisely subtle about the fact that he was still upset with him, but for the most part, he left Remus alone to rest. Remus could tell that Sirius was hurt by his own continued standoffishness, but in his weakened state, he was not prepared for the sort of emotionally-draining conversation it would take to fix things. 

The afternoon following the full moon, Sirius went into town with the message that Remus was ill, and would not be coming in to work that evening. When he returned with supper supplies, he did not look in on Remus, but went straight to the kitchen, only coming into the bedroom when the meal -- soup and a bit of toast and tea -- was finally ready. 

"Did you take my message in?" Remus asked as Sirius set down the tray on the nightstand. 

There was an odd look in Sirius's eyes. "Yeah," he said. "That Banji bloke said he hopes you're better soon. He seemed -- really concerned." 

Remus reached for his supper. "Well, Banji's a nice chap." 

"Sure." 

Remus looked up from his soup. "What?" 

"Nothing." Sirius shook his head and turned to leave. "He just didn't seem exactly thrilled to meet me." 

"No," Remus mumbled into his spoon. "I suppose not." 

But Sirius had already gone. 

* * *

On the third evening after the full moon, Remus returned to work. He still felt a bit shaky, but he felt he needed to get away from the increasingly-moody Sirius more than he needed more rest, and the bar, which had an open front looking out over the beach, was a pleasant and relaxing place. 

Banji smiled when he saw Remus come in. "I hope yah feelin' bettah, Johnny?" 

"Much better, thanks." Remus returned the smile. 

"Well, you take it easy this evenin', all right? I don' want you wearin' yahself out." 

He gave Remus's hand a squeeze which lasted slightly longer than simple friendship might permit. Remus coughed and moved to wipe an invisible spot from the bar. 

"Pouring drinks is hardly taxing, Banji. I'm sure I'll manage." 

In that, he was correct. It was a Tuesday evening, and the bar and beach were not as crowded as they frequently were on the weekends. He had felt badly for abandoning Banji to run things by himself on a Saturday night, but with the full moon, there was no help for it. 

Remus had told his employer that he had needed the day off for "medical reasons", and Banji had asked no awkward questions. Remus thought he knew why, but decided not to correct him, since his mistaken impression would probably keep Banji from trying to seduce him. 

Even on a slow night, there were still enough patrons to keep both men busy, so the evening passed quickly for Remus. The waning moon was high in the sky by the time they began to close up shop. Remus looked up as a last customer came through the door, and was surprised to see that it was Sirius. 

"To what do I owe the honour?" Remus asked with a half-smile. Sirius had never come to see him home from work before. 

"Just thought I'd walk you home," said Sirius, his eyes flickering toward Banji in a way that belied his casual tone. "Make sure you're all right." 

At the sound of their voices, Banji came over and patted Remus on the arm. "Don' you worry none," he told Sirius. "Our boy Johnny done well enough tonight." 

Sirius raised his eyebrows at Remus, and to cover the awkward moment, Remus turned toward the barman, clearing his throat. 

"Banji, I'd like you to meet -- Simon Black. Simon, this is Banji Mashaka." 

"We've met," Sirius said shortly, and with some reluctance, shook Banji's hand. 

"But now that we been properly introduced, I'm sho' we can all be friends," Banji said with a wide, almost genuine grin. 

Sirius gave him a look which suggested he rather doubted it, and said to Remus, "It's late. I've saved supper for you." 

"I thought you might have someone at home takin' care of you," said Banji, but he glanced pointedly from Sirius to a large bruise on Remus's arm, and Remus was sure that Sirius had not missed the implication. 

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "He gets _excellent_ care," he said icily. 

Without another word, he turned and walked out. Remus gave Banji and apologetic look and followed. He caught up with Sirius several paces down the beach. 

"There was no call to be rude," he admonished lightly. 

Sirius merely grunted and walked on. 

"Well, there wasn't," Remus went on. "Banji's a very nice bloke, once you get to know him --" 

"Yeah, I'm sure he and _Simon_ will get on just smashingly," growled Sirius. 

Remus sighed. "Well, what was I supposed to tell him? 'Sirius' isn't exactly a common Muggle name." 

"And 'Banji' is, I suppose?" sneered Sirius, still walking quickly. "The _nerve_ of him! Implying that I -- that I _mistreat_ you, or something!" He stopped in his tracks. "You didn't say that I --?" 

"No, of course not, Sirius!" said Remus, shocked. 

"Good." Sirius began walking again. 

"I told him I need one night a month, and maybe a day or two after, off for medical reasons," Remus explained. "He thinks I have AIDS." 

"What's that, then?" Sirius asked with grim indifference. 

"It's sort of like the Muggle version of Lycanthropy. A lot of gay men get it from -- well -- It's very contagious, and there's no cure, so I don't think he'd -- try anything. He probably thinks I have treatments or something once a month." 

"Well, that's good, if it means he keeps his hands to himself," Sirius said savagely. "I didn't like the way he was looking at you." 

"And how was that?" Remus asked tartly. 

Sirius gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Like you don't know! He looks at you the way _I_ look at you, dammit!" 

He spun around to face Remus, forcing the other man to halt. 

"He looks at you like _he_ wants to be the one standing between you and the darkness. _No one_ gets to look at you that way." 

"Sirius --" 

But now that he had started, there was no stopping him. "The full moon is _my_ night, Remus. It's _my_ job to help you -- to keep you safe from yourself. I counted a hundred and forty-five." 

Remus blinked. "What?" 

"That's how many full moons there were while I was stuck in Azkaban. I counted every one. A hundred and forty-five nights I should have been there for you, and wasn't. When I saw you the other morning, after -- well, all I could imagine was all those mornings when I wasn't there -- when you were alone and ill, with no one to care for you." 

Remus said nothing, and Sirius shook his head angrily. 

"Damn you, Moony! I _wanted_ you to be alone. Because if you were alone, it meant that _I_ wasn't replaceable. I felt like such a shit, thinking it, but the thought of someone else there, helping you, touching you -- I couldn't stand it. The full moon was _my_ night -- _our_ night -- I thought, now that I'm out and we're here, that maybe it would be again. But now there's this Banji bloke sniffing after you --" Sirius waved a hand dismissively back toward the darkened outline of the bar in the distance. "Well, I'm damned if I'm going to let some fucking Muggle bartender take you away from me!" 

"Sirius, I didn't touch another man for thirteen years. Do you really think I'd go after the first one to come along after finding you again?" 

"How do I know?" Sirius snarled. "You wouldn't even let me stay with you while you were sleeping. What did you think? That I'd try to force you against your will while you were weak?" 

"Of course not," Remus said sharply. He was tired, and he did not feel in the mood to have Sirius growling at him. "But I _know_ you, Sirius; you're always testing the limits and pushing against them to see how solid they are. I had to draw a line somewhere." 

Sirius turned and quickly walked on, fuming in silence. He was almost to the cottage door when Remus caught up with him again. 

"Come on," Remus said gently. "Let's just get some rest. Everything will seem better in the morning." 

" _No!_ " Sirius barked, rounding on him again. "I don't want it to _seem_ better. I want it to fucking well _be_ better! Only, I don't know how to do that, apparently. You're just going to hold me at arms' length until you succeed where the bloody Dementors failed, and drive me well and truly mad, aren't you?" 

Sirius grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked it down, popping off a button or two in the process. Remus's eyes fixed on the thin, pale expanse of his chest -- at the ornately-scripted "R" emblazoned in stark contrast against his skin. 

"Your name is written on my fucking _heart_ ," Sirius hissed through gritted teeth, eyes blazing. "We are _married_ , or as good as! And I can't even fucking _touch_ you." 

He let go of his shirt and raised his hand to demonstrate the truth of his words, and Remus took an involuntary step back. Sirius let the hand fall back to his side with a sound of disgust. 

"Sirius," Remus said softly. "The way I've been -- you think that I --?" 

"What am I supposed to think?" Sirius's voice was suddenly weary. "Lying awake night after night without you, wondering if you're done with me -- wondering if it's possible to die of loving someone." 

Remus held his breath, unable to speak, his entire being suddenly focused on eyes shining black with sorrow in the moonlight. 

"Have I lost you, Moony?" Sirius asked plaintively. "If we're through, just tell me. I'll go." 

His voice broke, and Remus heard the fear and despair which underlay his now-spent anger. 

"But before I do, I just want you to know that I still love you. More than I have ever loved anyone my whole life -- more than I ever thought it was possible for one person to love another -- and I will never stop. I'm a better person than I might have been for having loved you." 

Remus was utterly still. Then -- "Say it again," he whispered hoarsely. 

Sirius met his eyes steadily. "I love you, Remus Lupin." 

The two men stood staring at one another in silence for a moment before Sirius dared to ask tentatively, "Do you -- do you still love me at all, Moony?" 

Remus could see the pain and hope mingled in his eyes. "More than I could tell you in a lifetime, Padfoot," he said, reaching at last across the distance between them to touch Sirius's face. "I have never loved anyone else." 

"Oh," said Sirius faintly, raising his own hand to touch Remus's. "That's good." 

Remus's breath caught in his throat, and his heart was suddenly pounding. _Now_ was the moment. Now was the time to set aside his fears -- to take Sirius in his arms and let him know without words that everything was going to be all right. But before he could take that final step forward, Sirius was squeezing his fingers -- letting go his hand -- turning away from him. 

"Good night, Moony," he said softly. "I'll see you in the morning." 

Remus stood staring after Sirius for a long moment, wanting with every fibre of his being to go after him. At last, he sighed. 

_Maybe he's right,_ he thought. _It's late and we're both tired. We can talk more tomorrow. And then, just maybe, it will be time for us to start again._


	6. Promises

_He's not sure how long he has been able to tell. Maybe since last year. But he knows when it's James, and he knows when it's Peter. James always whispers Lily's name at the end, and Peter murmurs "Maddy, Maddy, Maddy" over and over again in a litany. When it is either of them, he puts the pillow over his head and does his best to ignore it. They are his friends, after all. He should not be listening._

_But tonight, it's Remus. And with Remus, it's different._

_Sirius lies perfectly still, burning with shame,_ listening _. He is not sure if it's the rhythmic sound of flesh against flesh that has awakened him, or the choked, sobbing sound that Remus sometimes makes when he's trying to stay quiet, but now Sirius is awake and he is listening, trying to catch a word -- a name -- to give him hope in the midst of those beautiful, soul-destroying sounds, even when he knows there is no hope for him._

_When it's James or Peter, it's just another sound in the darkness of their dormitory -- another fact of life when teenage boys live at close quarters -- but when it's Remus, the images tumble through his mind, and there is nothing he can do to stop them. Remus's eyes closed, his lips parted, those eloquent, long-fingered hands, moving, stroking, caressing --_

_And it's not like he hasn't seen the rest, either. Remus, stepping out of the showers, skin pink and steaming, self-conscious only about his scars. Sirius always tries not to look, but he catches himself stealing glimpses every time. He can recall with crystal clarity the twisted silver scar of the wolf's bite at the top of Remus's right thigh, bare inches from those parts of Remus's body that a friend should not be staring at._

_Sirius groans inwardly as he feels himself begin to stiffen in response to the sounds coming from behind Remus's bed curtains. He cannot --_ cannot _\-- do anything about it so long as Remus is awake. Because Remus would hear, and would know that Sirius had heard, and then Remus would guess about him. What he thinks. How he feels. Sirius couldn't stand the look of revulsion Remus would surely give him the next time they saw one another in daylight. If he touches himself now, their friendship is over._

_So he lies perfectly still, listening, imagining -- imagining what it would be like to cross the room and push back those curtains -- to see a smile bloom on Remus's lips, and a wicked gleam light his eyes -- to see Remus's hands reach out to draw him down onto the bed, and pull the curtains closed around them -- to feel those long, eloquent fingers caress his flesh, so sure and knowing -- to use his own hands and mouth and body to elicit soft sounds of passion from the other boy._

_He hears a gasp catch in Remus's throat across the room as the rhythmic motion abruptly ceases, and Sirius closes his eyes tight shut and wishes he was not queer, hard as rock, and burning with desire for one of his best friends. It's going to be a long time until morning._

* * *

Sirius opened his eyes. The first thing he realised was that he was not in Gryffindor tower after all. The room he was in was small, with cracked and yellowed plaster on the walls, and the night air was too hot and muggy to be anywhere in Scotland. The second thing he realised was that he could still hear the sounds that had "awakened" him in his dream: rhythmic, furtive movements and choked gasps. 

Sirius did not question -- did not let himself think at all -- but rose from the bed and moved toward the sound that drew him, as if still in a dream. 

Remus lay on the sofa, eyes closed, hand moving feverishly beneath the thin sheet that covered him from the waist down. The light of the waning moon reflected off the silvered scars of his torso and the fine sheen of sweat that coated his body. 

For a moment, Sirius stood, uncertain, himself wearing nothing more than sweat and moonlight. It was fear that made him hesitate. His fingers twitched with the desire to touch that beautiful, lithe form, but he was afraid of what it would do to him if Remus pushed him away again. Sirius knew, though, that he was not strong enough to turn and walk away. 

"Remus," he said softly, and the gray man opened his eyes, unstartled. "Moony, come to bed. Please. I need you." 

Remus's gaze traveled down his body, resting on the evidence at hand, then back up to meet his eyes once more. 

"Not just for that," Sirius assured him quickly. "Not for that at all, if you don't want to. It's just -- where you should be." 

Slowly, Remus rose from the sofa, letting the covers fall away. Their fingers laced together as Sirius, holding his breath in fearful wonder, led him into the other room, and they lay down on the bed. 

For long moments, they only gazed at one another in the moonlight, hands still clasped together, knees touching, and feet intertwined, but nothing more. Then Sirius tilted his head and kissed Remus softly on the mouth, giving as much as he could and trying not to ask too much in return too quickly. Remus's lips tasted of salt sweat, but his tongue, when it touched Sirius's in answer, was the sweetest thing he had ever known. 

Like a compass seeking true north, Sirius moaned and pressed himself full-length against Remus, his body starved for the touch of his lover. 

At last Remus broke their kiss. "'Not for that', hmmm?" His voice was strained with need, but held a hint of amusement nonetheless. 

Remus's hands rose, and long, elegant fingers tangled in the black silk his hair, caressing the curves and shapes of his skull. Sirius's eyelids fluttered closed. 

"Please," he whispered. 

This time, it was Remus who initiated the kiss, moaning hungrily and biting Sirius's lower lip before bowing his head to taste the hollow of his throat. 

Sirius's consciousness fragmented. "Please," he breathed again. 

Remus's fingers dug hard into the muscles of Sirius's neck and shoulders. "Padfoot," he whispered, as he rested his cheek momentarily against the ornate "R" that guarded Sirius's heart. Then he took a nipple in his mouth, biting and sucking with a fierce passion that made Sirius gasp. 

He tasted his way slowly down Sirius's torso, as if savouring a rare delicacy, seeming not to notice how Sirius's ribs stood out starkly through his pale, wasted flesh. His hands traced the bones of Sirius's arms. 

Sirius felt Remus nuzzle his navel as their fingers laced together, and then there was warm breath misting against the exquisitely sensitive flesh between his legs. 

" _Please!_ " The word was almost a moan this time. 

Remus laughed softly, and Sirius felt his breath puff across his tightly-stretched skin. 

"'Please yes' or 'please no'?" His voice was husky and tantalising. 

A hand released his and moved between Sirius's legs, gently cupping and rolling his balls across the warm, calloused palm. 

"Please -- you -- don't have to --" Sirius gasped. "But don't -- _tease_!" 

"You think I'd tease, Padfoot?" murmured Remus. "After all this time?" 

And then his mouth was there, warm and wet and welcoming. Sirius made a strangled sound, almost a sob, and tangled his hands in Remus's hair. He could barely remember the last time Remus's tongue had caressed him like that. Long before Azkaban. Before that year of horrible suspicions. Nothing had ever felt sweeter, and he wanted it to last forever. 

Everything else faded away. His whole world was Remus's mouth, and Remus's tongue was his centre of gravity, flicking, licking, teasing, twirling. A sound that was half a bark tore from his throat, and suddenly he was shuddering and bucking his hips, fingers twined in that fine, light hair as he spent himself onto Remus's beautiful, amazing tongue. 

It was several moments before he could do more than gasp for breath. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and feel the echoing throb of it receding in his loins. When at last he opened his eyes, Remus was watching him, face inches from his own. 

"You still taste the same, Padfoot," he said softly. 

Sirius could neither move nor reply, but when Remus bent close, capturing his lips with his own, he responded eagerly, tasting his lover's sweat and his own desire, a heady and thrilling combination. 

"I forgot how bloody amazing you are at that," he groaned when at last they broke apart. "Did you really lecture students with that mouth?" 

Remus smiled. "I am a man of many talents," he allowed. "But no student ever looked half so pleased with my skills as you do right now, Padfoot." 

"Good," said Sirius. "I'd hate to have to be jealous of a schoolboy." 

"What is there to be jealous of?" Remus bowed his head, and his lips vibrated against Sirius's throat as he spoke, making him shiver again. "What can I do to prove to you that you're the only one I've ever wanted? That for thirteen years, I've dreamed of making love to you again?" 

He took Sirius's hand and wrapped his fingers around his cock, hot and rigid with too-long waiting. Sirius stroked it in breathless wonder, remembering with his hands how Remus liked to be touched. 

Remus made a whimpering sound low in his throat. 

"Hush," Sirius murmured. "Let me." 

Remus shook his head, pushing his hand away gently, and pressing his shoulders to the bed, rose up over him. 

"Not like that," he whispered, eyes dark gold with passion. "Padfoot, I need --" 

But Sirius had already divined the need in Remus's eyes. His heart pounded as he willingly parted his thighs, drawing his knees up to make room for Remus between them. He shivered again. Remus would be careful, he knew, but the wolf's needs were not always fully under his control. 

Remus felt him shiver. "Are you afraid?" he asked, grasping Sirius's wrists with one hand and pinning them over his head. 

"Yes," Sirius admitted. "More than I was the first time." 

Remus pressed his forehead to Sirius's. "We were kids then. Now we know what can be gained. Or lost." 

"Not lost." Sirius's gray eyes gazed into Remus's golden brown ones. "Never again." 

They both cried out when Remus entered him. Rough enough to prove his dominance, the werewolf could be tender, too. There was pain, but it was the sweet ache of fulfillment, and the thrill of it shivered through Sirius's every nerve ending. 

"Open your eyes," Remus growled. "Look at me." 

Sirius obeyed unquestioningly. The intent face; the myriad scars; the mouth made for kissing; the soft, fair hair, damp with sweat at the temples; the lean, muscular body; the strong, long-fingered hands. 

"Look," Remus demanded again when Sirius's eyelids fluttered closed. " _Look_ at me, damn you! See who owns you. See how you're mine. Watch me while I fuck you." 

Sirius shivered and looked down into the shadows between them to where their bodies joined. Remus's hair was like gold wire, and his own was black as pitch. His cock lay half-erect against his belly, and beyond it, he could see the root of Remus's as he moved inside him. 

"Tell me," Remus panted harshly. "Tell me who owns you." 

"You do. Always," Sirius gasped as Remus thrust into him, hard. "I belong to you." 

But he knew just as certainly and fiercely that the man who owned him also belonged to him, body and soul. 

"Never leave me again," Remus commanded at the last, just before his climax took him. 

"Never," promised Sirius, holding him as he shuddered and dissolved over the edge. "I love you." 

* * *

Remus buried his face against Sirius's shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, feeling both their heartrates return to normal, suddenly very aware that he was trembling. He tried to make himself stop, taking a few deep, calming breaths, but if anything, it only seemed to grow worse. Sirius's arms were around him, his chin resting on top of Remus's head. 

"Are you okay, Moony?" he asked quietly. 

Remus opened his mouth to say that he was fine, but without warning, the words were shoved aside by an enormous sob, and he was shaking in earnest, slipping free of his lover's body. He couldn't speak -- could barely breathe -- as sob after sob tore from his quaking chest. If it hadn't been for Sirius's arms, tight around him, holding him together, he might have shaken himself into pieces. 

Sirius held him, murmuring soothing nonsense, as all the grief and rage and loneliness and heartbreak and despair of the last thirteen years -- emotions that he had tried so carefully and methodically to put away -- boiled out of him in a great tidal wave of feeling. It would never stop; he would suffocate and die here in Sirius's arms, and it didn't matter, because here, at the last, at the end of everything, Sirius was _his_ again and forever. His heart had shrunk from lack of use, and now it was so full that surely it would burst. 

He raised his face, eyes bloodshot and puffy, to gaze into Sirius's. Sirius's face was calm and tranquil, and as he watched, a lopsided half-smile curved his lips. 

"Yeah," he said. "I forgot how bad the sex was, too." 

Remus made a choked sound that was half a sob and half a laugh, and suddenly he couldn't stand not to be kissing that wonderful, beloved, brave mouth that could laugh in the face of fear and pain and danger. He pressed his mouth, hot and tear-salted, to Sirius's, in mindless need to taste -- to consume -- to join their hearts into one great, pulsing force that blazed like the sun. 

Their bodies pressed together, and he felt Sirius's cock twitch against his hip with the first stirrings of arousal. 

"Again," Remus murmured against his mouth. "I want you again, Padfoot. I never want us to stop. _God!_ I am so in love with you --" 

Sirius's only answer was to find Remus's hand with his own and wrap it around his stiffening shaft. Remus stroked and squeezed in measured rhythm, until Sirius moaned and writhed against his hand, fingers digging into Remus's back, urging him wordlessly. _Faster. Harder._

"Not yet," he said softly. He could feel his own body beginning to respond to the beautiful abandon of Sirius's lust. "Oh, not yet, my own true love. I want to come with you." 

He moved his hips until his cock slid alongside Sirius's, and gathered them both in his fist, giving long, steady strokes as their hips rocked together and their breathing turned to shallow gasps. He wanted to hold back -- wanted the moment to last until the end of time -- but he was so close already, and Sirius's soft cries of "Moony! Oh, God, Moony!" were quickly driving him over the edge. 

"Come with me, Padfoot," he panted. "Come with me now!" 

Sirius gave a helpless little whimpering moan, clutching at Remus's arms, and it was all Remus needed to put him over. Their bodies jerked and shuddered together as wet heat spurted and spilled over his hand, his own cry muffled against Sirius's neck. 

He was not trembling any longer. Much to his amazement -- when he finally got around to noticing such things several moments later -- he found he could even breathe again. The world seemed to be righting itself as his body slipped back under his control. He sighed his relief and contentment. 

"Better?" Sirius asked drowsily, tenderly stroking his neck. 

"Much," he said. "Give me just a minute, and I'll be ready to go again." 

Sirius groaned, but there was laughter in his voice when he said, "Maybe _you_ will, you bloody insatiable beast, but _I_ won't. Are you trying to kill me?" 

Remus rolled onto his side to look into his lover's laughing eyes. "Time was, twice in one night wouldn't have been nearly enough for you." 

"Maybe I'm getting old," Sirius suggested, untroubled by the thought. 

Remus smiled at him fondly. "You're just out of practice. You're never going to get back into top form on twice a night. You've got to practice until it hurts, Padfoot." 

Sirius sprawled on his back, sighing dramatically. "Fifteen minutes and you're welcome to try again. But if I die of overexertion, I told you so." 

* * *

Hours later, as dawn began to sneak past the windows of the cottage, Sirius leaned on his elbow, looking shyly down at Remus. 

"Everything all right, Padfoot?" asked the incredibly smug werewolf stretched out beside him. 

"Everything's amazing," Sirius sighed with a half-smile. "But I was just wondering --" 

"Hmmm?" 

"Well," Sirius began slowly. "I wouldn't want you to think I'm vain or anything --" Remus snorted. "-- but I used to be a pretty nice looking bloke, didn't I? And now --" A sweep of his hand took in his shadowed eyes, his waxy skin, his thin and bony frame. 

Remus reached an arm around his waist and pulled Sirius on top of him. "You're beautiful to me, Padfoot. You always were, and you always will be. And if you don't believe me, well, I'll just have to keep proving it to you." He kissed Sirius thoroughly until the other man relaxed against him once more. "Is that all that's troubling you?" 

Sirius laid his cheek against Remus's chest, watching the growing pink light fill the cottage, and listening to the slow, steady rhythm of the heart entrusted to his care once more. 

"Is it true?" he asked at last. "What you said about -- about not being with anyone else while I was -- gone?" He felt Remus's arms tighten around him. 

Remus sighed. "I tried," he admitted. "For almost a year after you -- left -- I couldn't bear to be around people at all. But then, well, I was angry with myself for not being able to get over you. I thought maybe if I met someone else, eventually the pain would stop, or at least become bearable." He chuckled mirthlessly. "Have you any idea how hard it is to meet a gay wizard without werewolf prejudice? You're a rare commodity, my own. And Muggles -- well, my whole life would have to be a secret. And I was tired of secrets. I didn't want to live like that." 

"I didn't really want you to be alone, Moony," Sirius said softly. 

"I know, Padfoot. And looking only made me realise how lucky I had been to find you in the first place. Merlin bless the Sorting Hat for putting me in a house with the only man who could ever love someone like me." 

Sirius raised his head and looked into Remus's eyes again. "If those fools don't realise what they're missing, then _I'm_ the lucky one. We _did_ find one another, though. And now that we've found one another again -- I can't think of a word for it, other than 'miracle'." 

Remus smiled. "Maybe the Fates think we've paid our dues. We've seen enough suffering for a dozen lifetimes. Now is our time in the sun. Kiss me for luck, Padfoot. God willing, this time it will last."


	7. Seduction and Sangria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Food kink. If you're not into chocolate-covered porn (starts about 1/3 of the way down the page), this chapter is skipable.

Sirius drifted on a tide of bliss, slowly coming awake. The room was hot and stuffy and smelled of sex, and they had kicked the covers off in the night. By the light outside, it was sometime around midday, or possibly later. Sirius turned away from the brilliant tropical sunlight and toward the much more glorious sight in his bed. 

Remus was still asleep. He lay on his front, face turned to one side, lips parted. Sirius lazily admired the ash-and-gold tumble of his hair, the slope of his shoulders, the hollows of his back, the rounded curve of his buttocks, the strong, sinuous lines of his legs, the elegant arches of his feet. Even the scattering of scars did not mar the vision of perfection, in Sirius's eyes. 

When he could bear no longer to look without touching, he moved closer, running a hand down Remus's back, and resting his chin on his shoulder. Remus sighed with contentment, but did not open his eyes. 

"What do you dream, O Manifestation of My Desires?" Sirius murmured. 

Remus's eyes fluttered open at last. "I dream," he said ruefully, "of not having to go in to work today." 

Sirius groaned. "Do you have to? Can't you just -- call in sick? That's the Muggle expression, isn't it?" 

"To call in sick," Remus informed him, turning onto his back and stretching luxuriantly, "one must have a telephone. Or failing that, a friend to carry the message. Having neither, I fear I must go and earn my daily wage. How else do you expect me to keep you in brightly-coloured shirts and shorts?" 

"Since you ask," Sirius replied, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, "I very much prefer for you to keep me _out_ of them. It's much more fun that way." 

Remus smiled. "How you wish to garb yourself for the afternoon is entirely up to you, Padfoot. I, however, must make myself decent and presentable if I am to go out in public." 

He moved to get out of bed, but Sirius restrained him with a touch. "If you skive off, I'll give you the most mind-blowing blowjob in the history of ever," he offered with his most winsome expression. 

Remus laughed at that, and got up, reaching for a shirt which hung over the room's only chair. "Tempting as your offer is, Mr Padfoot, I fear I must be going. On account?" 

Pulling on the shirt, he leaned over the bed to give Sirius a proper and thorough snogging. When he drew away, Sirius looked regretful. 

"I just wanted to send you off with that well-satisfied look in your eye." 

"I'm sure Banji will get the message." He squinted down his front at the red welt of a bite mark on his chest before kissing Sirius once more. "I'll be home as soon as I can manage." 

Once Remus had gone, Sirius did not wallow in bed for long. True to his word, he chose not to bother with clothing, but wandered out into the lush greenery in nothing but his skin. He waved gaily to Buckbeak as he passed, sauntering down the gently-sloping ground toward the beach. 

Reaching the treeline, he peered out cautiously, looking both ways down the sandy expanse, but such people as he could see were too far off to trouble himself about. Two steps farther, and the sun shone full in his face, reflecting off his blindingly-white skin. The sand was hot between his toes as he rocked up onto the balls of his feet, stretching sore muscles, hands pressing against the deep blue Caribbean sky, enjoying the feel of the sun on his skin almost as much as Remus's touch. 

Turning his face toward the sun, he let out his breath in a long, " _Yessssssss!_ " 

Remus was his again, and they had celebrated that fact thoroughly a number of times the previous night. Sirius could not remember feeling better than he did just now since he had felt the first time Remus had kissed him. The sun had shone warm on him that day, too, on the bank of an English river nearly twenty years ago. 

Remus had been babbling about girls, Sirius recalled, and for a panicked moment, he had feared that Remus was asking his advice about a girl he fancied. But then -- then Remus had corrected Sirius's mistaken impression with a touch, and almost at once Sirius had found himself confessing his feelings for the other boy, the knot of worry, fear and shame that he had carried inside himself for so long, loosening with every word. 

He remembered still how first disbelief and then hope had shone in Remus's wide brown eyes. And then the blushing boy had asked, so innocently, so hesitantly, if he might kiss Sirius. In the moment that had followed, the whole world had changed. 

And now, the world had changed again. He had dared to hope, but had not expected that Remus would still love him -- still want him the way he had all those years ago. The contrast between the tentative question of the boy on the riverbank and the demanding passion of the man who had shared his bed last night was enough to make Sirius shiver with delight. 

With a grin and another quick glance down the beach, he lit out across the sand and threw himself joyfully into the waves, reveling as sensation, memory and the ocean washed over him. 

* * *

It was a slightly sunburned Sirius who swaggered into the bar four hours later, shirt unbuttoned, singing at the top of his lungs. 

" _... bring back what we've forgot! Just do your best, we'll do the rest! And learn until our brains all roooooooooooooot!_ My good man!" he addressed Remus in ringing tones, setting down a shopping bag on the bar. "Would you be so kind at to furnish me with a bottle of fine sangria on this most magical evening?" 

Remus, barely concealing his amusement, raised an eyebrow. "I think I might manage something of the kind." 

Sirius waved a hand grandly. "Good, good! Put it on my tab." 

"You seem to be in a bettah mood this evenin', Simon," Banji noted. 

"That I am, that I am!" Sirius declared expansively. 

"You got plans for de sangria? What you gonna serve with it?" the bartender asked, indicating the shopping bag with a graceful gesture. 

"Well," Sirius leaned in confidentially. "I was planning to prepare a succulent, gourmet seduction to go with it." He turned his dancing gray eyes toward Remus. "I was thinking of acquiring this fine specimen here for the main course. That is, if you can be persuaded to part with him, say, nowish? I promise I'll return him in reasonably good condition tomorrow." 

For a moment, Banji looked as though he might refuse, but the bar was fairly empty that evening, and it was clear that there was barely enough work to be had for two men. The barman sighed, shook his head, and waved Remus away. 

"I'll be seein' yah tomorrow," Banji said as Remus carefully packaged the sangria bottle. 

As they started off down the beach, Remus walked at a sedate pace while Sirius fairly danced circles around him. 

"Come _on_ , Moony!" he urged. "We'll miss the sunset, and then all my beautiful plans will be ruined." 

"Sunset's not for a couple of hours yet, Padfoot." But Remus allowed himself to be hurried along to the cottage. 

Once inside, he turned to Sirius. "So, what plans --?" 

But Sirius had dropped to his knees and was tugging Remus's brightly coloured shorts down over his hips. 

"Supper?" Remus gasped as Sirius's mouth engulfed him. 

"Later," Sirius mumbled. "Been waiting all day for this." 

For the next five minutes or so, Remus was incapable of speech, leaning back against the door to maintain his balance as all coherent thought fled under Sirius's eager ministrations. 

At last, Sirius stood up and Remus's heart rate began to return to normal. 

"That was pretty quick for the 'best blowjob in the history of ever,' as you so eloquently put it this morning," he panted, leaning dizzily against the door. 

Sirius grinned, licking his lips. "That, my dear Moony, was only a sample provided in good faith, so that you will know what to expect, and so that I may take my time when I lay siege to you in earnest." 

"Oh, so you _do_ have plans," Remus said with a wry smile, pulling up his shorts. 

"I do," Sirius acknowledged. "And they don't include those. Off with them!" 

He began to shrug out of his own shirt and shorts, kicking off his sandals. Remus raised an eyebrow and followed his example. Once bare, Sirius took up the shopping bag and the package containing the sangria, and turned toward the kitchen. Following, Remus was surprised when Sirius opened the side door, and continued out into the evening light, padding barefoot down to the beach. Leaving the sheltering greenery, Remus stepped out onto sand shimmering with evening sunlight. Just beyond the edge of the trees, a blanket had been carefully spread, and Sirius, with great dignity for a naked man, bowed eloquently, gesturing for Remus to have a seat. 

"Out here?" Remus asked, settling himself on the blanket. "Aren't you worried about getting -- er -- interrupted?" 

Sirius waved a hand. "I did one of those Muggle-repelling charms on this part of the beach. No one will come down here. It's all ours. And you're all mine." 

Remus raised an eyebrow. "And you're not at all concerned about getting sand in uncomfortable places?" 

"Not a bit of it." 

Sirius smiled mysteriously and drew his wand from beneath a corner of the blanket, reclining beside Remus. He laid the tip against Remus's nose and drew it slowly down his lips, across the leaping pulse at his throat, down his torso, teasing around the base of his already-hardening cock. 

" _Harena declino_." 

Remus blinked as the few clinging grains of sand fell from his skin. "Where did you learn that one?" 

"Oh, I know a great many things," Sirius replied mysteriously, performing the spell twice more -- once on himself and once on the blanket. "I fully intend to demonstrate a number of my talents for you this very evening." 

The corner of Remus's mouth curved in a smile. "I very much look forward to that." 

"And well you should," Sirius said, grinning wickedly and pulling the shopping bag toward him. 

Remus raised his eyebrows as Sirius drew out a package of mixed tropical fruits and a pot of expensive-looking dark chocolate sauce. 

"That's supper, is it?" he asked wryly. 

"It is," replied Sirius with some asperity. "One of the grand things about being an adult, Moony, is realising that sometimes it's okay to have chocolate for supper." 

He delicately plucked a bite of mango from its place, dipped it in the chocolate sauce and held it out invitingly to Remus, who obliged him by ducking his head and nibbling it out of his fingers. Sirius leaned forward and licked a stray smear of chocolate from Remus's lips, lingering there for a moment. 

As he drew back, Remus smiled. "At this rate, supper will take all night." 

"Did you have other plans?" Sirius inquired. 

"I thought you did?" 

"The plan, my darling Moony," Sirius intoned with great dignity, "is to get you drunk and then have my wicked, wicked way with you." 

"On one bottle of sangria?" Remus asked skeptically. 

"I was hoping," Sirius continued, tapping the top of the bottle once with his wand to pop the cork, "that you would oblige me by being a cheap date, and put out after the second glass." 

"Glass?" Remus looked around. 

Sirius shrugged. "Since you mention it, we are going to drink this sangria as God intended." 

He gave a brief demonstration, tilting his head back to swig directly from the bottle. Remus lay back on the blanket, propping himself up on one elbow as Sirius passed him the bottle. He took a swig and succeeded in spilling some of the sweet, fruity wine down his front. Before he could wipe it away, Sirius's tongue was there, taking care of it. Remus closed his eyes, sighing with pleasure. 

He allowed Sirius to feed him a few more chocolate-dipped fruit pieces as the sun sank low over the water. Sirius began his seduction slowly, using light touches and delicately licking away stray bits of chocolate. When Remus moved to touch him in return, Sirius would gently push the hand away and continue with whatever he was doing. 

"Turn over," he whispered at length, nuzzling Remus's neck, and Remus did so, feeling the warm sun on his buttocks, and a thrill at the wicked gleam in Sirius's eyes. 

Sirius picked up the half-empty sangria bottle, and Remus felt a tingle as the cool liquid splashed against the back of his neck, and a deeper shiver as Sirius ran his tongue up the groove of Remus's spine, catching the wine. Remus closed his eyes and moaned appreciatively. 

"That's what I like to hear," Sirius said smugly. "Do you want me to do it again?" 

"Yes." 

"Ask nicely." 

Remus grinned in spite of himself. "Oh, so we're going to play like that, are we?" 

"We are," Sirius replied firmly, dipping another piece of fruit into the chocolate. "I'm going to make you beg before I'm through with you." 

"You think I could refuse you anything?" Remus gasped as Sirius drew the chocolate-dipped fruit up his inner thigh. 

"Maybe not," Sirius acknowledged. "But I mean to have you at my mercy by the time I'm finished. Now, what was it you were going to ask, Moony?" 

"I was going to say," said Remus, "that if you would like some more sangria, I am your willing chalice. But since you've gone and got chocolate all over me again, maybe you could --?" 

Sirius bit him gently on the shoulder. "That's not 'asking nicely', and you know it, Moony. Do it properly, or you get nothing." 

Remus hid his smile. "Please, Sirius. I want to feel your tongue on my back again." 

In answer, another trickle of sangria flowed down his neck, followed by another long, slow swipe of Sirius's tongue from the curve of his buttocks to the top of his spine. He shivered deliciously again. 

"All right; you got what you wanted. My turn." Sirius ordered mock-sternly. "Turn over." 

Obligingly, Remus rolled onto his back. Sirius surveyed him from head to toe beneath lowered eyelids. 

"Very nice," he murmured. "I can see that you enjoyed that." 

Sirius dipped a finger into the chocolate pot and held it up to Remus's lips. Remus put out his tongue to taste the chocolate, and Sirius let him draw the finger into his mouth. 

"Very nice," he repeated softly, removing the finger. "Would you like something else to suck on, Moony?" 

"Yes," Remus murmured. "Please let me suck your cock, Sirius. I've missed the sounds you make." 

Sirius bit his lip to suppress a grin. "Kinky bugger," he teased affectionately. 

He straddled Remus's chest, scooping another dollop of chocolate from the jar and smearing it over himself. He presented this confection to Remus's eagerly awaiting mouth, and closed his eyes in bliss as his lover licked and sucked the chocolate away. Sirius thought about how easy it would be to allow him to continue -- to let himself come in Remus's wonderful, amazing mouth, like he had last night -- but that was not part of the plan. With a reluctant groan, he pulled away. 

"I believe I have some unfinished business with your inner thigh?" he said, pulling together the shreds of his composure. 

Remus raised his knee, exposing the stripe of chocolate to Sirius's critical eye. 

"Sirius," he said. "I would simply love it if you would please apply your talented tongue to the chocolate on my thigh in a pleasurable way." 

Sirius bent his head and gave Remus a tiny lick somewhere in the vicinity of his knee. "Like that? Or did you mean --?" He leaned forward and delicately tasted the flesh near the crease of Remus's groin. 

Remus drew in a sharp breath. "Like that. Please." 

"See, now you're begging properly." 

Leaning forward again, he slowly nibbled the chocolate from Remus's inner thigh. 

"You taste good with chocolate, Moony," Sirius told him when he finished. "I almost wish I could dip you in it and then lick you clean." 

"Still planning on getting fat?" Remus chuckled. 

"I can think of worse ways of accomplishing it," replied Sirius. 

He bent to capture Remus's mouth, even though there was no chocolate evident there. 

"Mmmm. Your mouth tastes almost as good as it feels," he breathed. He tilted his head and sank his teeth into Remus's neck, biting hard enough to make him draw breath sharply. "You even taste good where you're not covered in chocolate. Do you like it when I play rough?" 

"You know I do, Padfoot." 

"What do you want me to do to you, Moony?" 

He ran one chocolate-covered finger up the length of Remus's erection. Remus's eyelids fluttered closed again. 

"I want you to cover my cock in chocolate and lick it off. Please, Padfoot? You don't have to -- be gentle," he gasped, as Sirius continued to tease him. 

Sirius's fingers idly encircled Remus's shaft. "Open your eyes, Moony. Look at me when you beg. What do you want me to do?" 

Remus's eyes pleaded as eloquently as his words. "Please suck my cock, Sirius. I want you to use your mouth to make me come again." 

" _Tsk, tsk._ In such a hurry to be done already?" Sirius teased, letting go of Remus. "Too bad. I'm not nearly finished with you.". 

"Please, Padfoot," Remus moaned. 

It had almost always been Remus who made him beg for what he wanted, in the old days. Sirius found he was very much enjoying this turnabout. He bent his head and licked Remus once from root to tip. 

"Like that?" 

"Yes! Please don't stop!" 

"You want me to suck you like you sucked me?" 

" _Yes!_ " Remus cried through gritted teeth. 

"Convince me." 

Remus's eyes were desperate. "Sirius, please suck my cock like I sucked yours. I need you to. I'll do anything you ask if you'll just take me in your mouth. Nothing feels as wonderful as your tongue on me, and if you don't do it right now, I might explode. Please! I'm begging you --" 

"That was very good, Moony. And I firmly believe that good behaviour should be rewarded." 

He dug out another dollop of chocolate and spread it over the head of Remus's cock, making the other man shiver. Sliding his fingers down the shaft, he bent his head and tasted chocolate and salt and Remus. 

"Padfoot!" Remus moaned. "Oh, _God_! Please don't stop. Don't ever stop!" 

But once Sirius had taken care of the chocolate, he released him. 

"Fair's fair, Moony; you didn't finish me off." 

Remus growled in frustration. "You didn't let me!" 

"I'll let you make up for it now," Sirius said enticingly. "If you ask nicely." 

The look Remus shot him was anguished. "Please. Let me make you come, Padfoot. I'll do anything." 

"Turn over." 

Remus looked at him uncomprehendingly. 

"I fancy a little more sangria. Turn over." 

Obediently, Remus did so. When he had had his fill of the wine, Sirius bent his head, playfully biting and nuzzling the firm flesh of Remus's buttocks. When he ran a teasing finger down his cleft, Remus shivered. 

"Get up on your hands and knees, Moony," Sirius said softly. 

Remus obeyed as Sirius moved behind him. 

"Do you know what I want, Moony?" 

"Y-yes." 

His voice trembled slightly, and Sirius shivered in response. It was not often that he had the werewolf at his mercy. 

"You owe me, Moony. For all the nights you made me wait, when I would have come to your bed and let you use me however you wanted. I want you to do one thing for me." 

" _Anything!_ " Remus gasped as Sirius's fingers caressed him again. 

"Tell me that you want this. Tell me that you're mine as much as I am yours." 

"God, _yes_ , Padfoot!" Remus almost whimpered. "I'm yours any way you want me." 

"What do you want me to do about that, Moony?" 

"I want you to fuck me, Padfoot," Remus begged. "Please -- God! It's been too fucking long since you were in me!" 

"Too bloody right, it has!" Sirius growled. 

Remus made a strangled sound when Sirius pressed the head of his cock against his tight entrance. He pressed a little harder, and felt Remus, with a shuddering sigh, opening to accept him. Sirius moved slowly, wanting to make the moment last as long as possible. Nothing in the world compared to the feel of Remus, submissive for once, sliding his beautiful, tight arse down the length of Sirius's cock. 

"Sit up," he commanded, voice rough. "Up on your knees. I want you here with me." 

Sirius rocked back, adjusting his position, and Remus rose up onto his knees. Chest pressed to Remus's back, Sirius wrapped his arms around him, holding him there, tasting the sweat on Remus's shoulder. 

"Feel me," he murmured against Remus's ear. "Feel me move inside you. You feel wonderful, Moony. Everything about you is wonderful." 

"I feel you," Remus panted, words falling over one another with Sirius's movements. "I love having -- you in me -- almost as much as I -- love being in you. _God_!" he moaned as Sirius thrust sharply. 

"I am a part of you, Moony. I'm your heart, and you are mine." 

"You are my heart," Remus whispered. "Always. Oh, _God_! Please touch me, Padfoot!" 

Sirius ran his hands over Remus's chest and down his thighs, digging in his fingernails to make Remus gasp and stiffen as he drew them sharply back up. Remus's reaction pleased him, and he raked his nails down his lover's chest, biting down on his shoulder until Remus cried out, thrusting back against him. 

"Harder! Please! I need --" 

"Do you want to come with me, Moony?" 

"God, yes!" he gasped, face flushed, eyes wide, breath coming in ragged gasps. 

Sirius was quickly coming undone, himself. It would not be long now. He curled his fingers around the hard shaft of Remus's cock, stroking, squeezing, matching the furious pace of his hips, until -- 

"God, _Sirius_!" Remus cried as he came, thrusting his arse back hard to meet Sirius. 

Sirius rode the waves of Remus's shuddering climax, pounding into him as relentlessly as the waves pounded against the sand nearby, losing himself in the hot, tight, almost-resistance of the slippery friction between their bodies. 

With a shout of joy, his own release came upon him, shattering the last vestiges of his control. 

It was a long moment before he regained his senses. When he did, they were lying together on the blanket, his forehead pressed against Remus's chest, and his lover's arms tight around him, long fingers tenderly caressing him. 

With a groan, he rolled over onto his back beside Remus, and stared up at the sky. Night was falling, and the bright, tropical stars were beginning to wink into life above them. He reached out for Remus, and found a hand questing for his. Their fingers intertwined as the night air began to cool their bodies. 

"Padfoot?" Remus murmured into the darkness. 

"Hmmm?" 

"I almost forgot how much fun you are when you're happy." 

"Me too, Moony."


	8. Treasure Beyond Value

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Biblical passage quoted in this chapter is Psalm 63.

It was as though the two of them were awakening to the paradise around them for the first time. The years seemed to fall away with all their cares, and it felt sometimes as if the past thirteen years had been no more than a bad dream banished by the warmth of the tropical sun. Every now and then, Remus would catch a distant, hunted look in Sirius's eye, or Sirius would notice the hard lines the years had carved around Remus's mouth, but those moments were few, and apart from them, the two men were as happy as they had ever been. 

On Remus's next day off from work, he took Sirius into town to rent a car in which to explore the island. 

"It doesn't matter," Remus was telling the rental agent. "We'll take whatever --" 

"Can we get the black one?" Sirius interrupted. 

Remus and the rental agent both turned to follow Sirius's hungry gaze. "Which --? Oh." 

As soon as he saw it, he knew why Sirius wanted it. It sat, top down, gleaming in the sun like a black jewel. Remus could almost smell the new leather of its upholstery. But the convertible's sleek appearance was only part of the reason Sirius wanted it. 

The rental agent frowned slightly. "De Marauder? I don' see why not. We jus' got it in dis week." She grinned. "Usually de boss likes to take dem out for a spin before we rent dem, but he's off de island jus' now." 

Sirius was already bending over the car, running his hands over the sun-warmed upholstery with a deeply covetous look in his eye. 

Remus rolled his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. "I think we'd better leave these two alone for a bit," he told the rental agent. "I'll take care of the paperwork." 

Once on the road, Sirius's wits seemed to dissolve into a state of rapture. He was unable to sit still. 

"Can we go really, really fast, Moony? Can I drive? Can we shag in the back seat, like Muggles? Can we make it fly?" And without waiting for an answer to any of these questions, he proceeded to stick his head out the side, and ride with his face to the wind, even though the top was down. 

"That would look a lot more natural if you had your fur on, Padfoot," Remus said mildly, making an unsuccessful grab for the tail of Sirius's shirt, to try and pull him back onto his seat. "Just don't drool on the upholstery." 

Remus let him drive once, down an empty stretch of road, but his heart was in his throat the entire time. He was finally able to make Sirius reluctantly relinquish the steering wheel by promising him that, yes, they could have sex in the back seat "like Muggles", if they could find a reasonably secluded place to do it. 

"Moony?" Sirius said afterward, leaning back against Remus's bare chest, sticky in the heat. 

"Hmmm?" Remus replied blissfully, not opening his eyes. 

"Where's my bike? I think I told Hagrid he could keep it, but I thought maybe --" 

Remus chuckled. The leather interior of the car against his bare skin had reminded him, too, of some of the more daring exploits of their youth. 

"Don't worry, Padfoot; I've got it in storage. We can go get it once your name is cleared, all right?" 

"That sounds great," Sirius sighed, and Remus thought he could hear the smile curving his mouth. "We'll find out if your balance has improved at all." 

* * *

In the sweltering heat of the afternoon, Remus and Sirius found shelter from the sun in the Hermitage -- the gray stone monastery which perched atop Mount Alverina, near the southern end of the island. 

"The guidebook says it was built by a Catholic priest in the first half of the twentieth century," said Remus, peering interestedly around the deserted monument. 

Sirius, apparently uninterested in local history, was hanging halfway out a window. 

"Where do they get off calling _this_ a mountain?" he asked. "We can't be more than a couple hundred feet up." 

"According to the guidebook, this is the highest point in the Bahamas. We're 206 feet above sea level. You can read about it, if you like." 

Remus came over to stand beside Sirius, laying the book down on the window ledge between them. The view down the lush green slope to the pink sand of the beach and the dazzling blue of the sea beyond it was breathtaking. 

"Why would I want to do that?" asked Sirius, pulling his head in. "All those statistics are downright boring and unsexy when it's not _you_ telling me about them." He turned to pin Remus against the wall, grinning wickedly and sneaking a hand up his thigh. "Tell me more, Moony. Serenade me with the number of grains of sand on the beach." 

"Not here, Padfoot," Remus hissed, glancing around nervously. "Someone might see." 

Sirius pressed his forehead against Remus's, and spoke against his lips. "There's no one here but us, Moony." 

"And you say _I'm_ insatiable," Remus said weakly. 

He felt Sirius's lips curve into a grin, and his fingers sneaking up the legs of his baggy shorts. 

"We've got thirteen years to make up for, and you think we should pace ourselves?" 

Remus's composure was quickly deserting him. "We have the rest of our lives to make up that time in, Padfoot. We don't need to do it all this week. Chafing of the private parts is no joke!" 

Sirius snorted. "Well, if you don't want to --" 

He released Remus, turned, and walked away. Remus, who had been just on the verge of surrender, hungry again for the taste of Sirius's lips, sagged against the window ledge. 

"Tease," he muttered. 

"I wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable." Sirius was all wide-eyed innocence now. "Not when all these pervy stones might be watching." 

"It's not that, Padfoot," Remus replied. "It's just -- well, this is a holy place, and we shouldn't. Not here." 

"How right you are!" Sirius grinned. He snatched up a much-thumbed Bible from the lectern at the front of the room. "We should be doing something holy. Let's see what this tells us to do." 

He let the book fall open at random, to the middle. 

"Hmmm. Nope; sorry, Moony. This bit is all about us, and it seems to agree with my plans." 

He began to read, pacing slowly back toward Remus across the bare stone floor of the room. 

" _Earnestly I seek you;_  
_My soul thirsts for you,_  
_My body longs for you,_  
_In a dry and weary land_  
_Where there is no water._  
_I have seen you in the sanctuary_  
_And beheld your power and your glory._ "

Sirius was close now. All that separated them was the book in his hand. He looked up into Remus's brown eyes. 

" _Because your love is better than life,_  
_My lips will glorify you._  
_I will praise you as long as I live,_  
_And in your name I will lift up my hands._ "

His hand cupped Remus's cheek. Remus was finding it difficult to breathe. The words seemed to cast a spell he was powerless to resist. 

" _My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods;_  
_With singing lips my mouth will praise you."_ "

Sirius's lips were hot and hungry on his own, and too quickly gone. Remus clung to the window ledge for support as the world seemed to sway beneath him. 

" _On my bed I remember you;_  
_I think of you through the watches of the night._ "

Such thoughts -- such images -- tumbled through Remus's mind, accompanied by the soft, rough rise and fall of Sirius's voice. His eyelids fluttered closed. 

" _Because you are my help,_  
_I sing in the shadow of your wings._  
_My soul clings to you;_  
_Your right hand upholds me._ "

He did not know if it was before or after Sirius said the words, but his hands were sliding around Sirius's waist, and Sirius's hand was under his shirt, pressed to his heart. 

" _They who seek my life will be destroyed;_  
_They will go down to the depths of the earth._  
_They will be given over to the sword_  
_And become food for jackals._  
_But the king will rejoice in God;_  
_All who swear by God's name will praise him,_  
_While the mouths of liars will be silenced._ "

"Amen," Remus whispered against the skin of Sirius's throat, breathing in his scent. "Now, are you quite finished with your blasphemy, Padfoot?" 

"When is love ever blasphemous?" Sirius knelt before Remus, setting the book aside and resting his hands on Remus's knees. "Your body is my altar. Let me worship you." 

Assent was on Remus's tongue, when he heard the crunch of gravel. 

"Bollocks," muttered Sirius, quickly rising to his feet and straightening his clothing. 

By the time the tourists entered the sanctuary, Remus and Sirius were standing side by side, gazing out the window and fervently hoping that the noticeable effects of their recent spiritual experience would wear off soon. 

"Well," said Remus as casually as he could manage. "What shall we do now?" 

"I know what I --" 

"Padfoot," he admonished, "we only have the car for one day. We can do _that_ anytime." 

"Oh, all right," Sirius sighed. "What else is there to do on this island?" 

"According to the guidebook, this place is the high point. Er -- no pun intended. But we could drive back down to the beach and --" 

"If you're looking for something to do," said a voice from behind them, "you could always go hunting for pirate treasure." 

"Pardon?" Remus turned to see a grinning girl with long brown hair wearing a black tee-shirt emblazoned with a skull and crossbones. 

"Pirates," the girl repeated. "Arthur Catt buried treasure beyond value here in the seventeenth century, or at least that's what all the stories say. No one's ever found anything. That's how the island got its name." 

"Pirates?" said Sirius, snatching up the guidebook and flipping through it. "Really? You didn't say anything about pirates, Moony." 

Remus groaned inwardly, recognising the gleam in Sirius's eye. 

"Thank you, Miss --?" 

"Heather," she supplied, offering a hand for Remus to shake. "I did my dissertation on pirates." 

"Thank you, Heather," Remus said, smiling a little stiffly. "You've really made his day." 

The girl grinned again. "I can see that." 

* * *

"Pirates, Moony!" Sirius repeated, eyes dancing, as they drove back down the slope of Mount Alverina. "And pirate treasure!" 

"I heard." 

"And yet you don't sound as keen as you ought. But never fear! I've just the thing to get you into the proper frame of mind." 

Sirius popped open the glove box and drew out his wand. One flourish later, their colourful shirts and shorts had been exchanged for tight-fitting black trousers and loose white shirts that laced up the front. Tricorn hats had appeared on their heads, and sturdy leather boots on their feet. 

"Avast ye scurvy dogs!" Sirius declared joyfully, viewing his handiwork. "Buckle yer swashes! Hoist the poop deck! Swab the aft fo'c's'le! Keel haul the mainmast!" 

"And this," said Remus, nonplussed, "is exactly why I appear less than enthused. Pirates sounded like just the sort of thing you were likely to get carried away with." 

Sirius ignored him, instead prodding him in the shoulder with the tip of his wand. "Do you yield, sir?" 

Remus sighed. "I suppose that if I take you home now, you'll just transfigure Buckbeak into a parrot. All right; where do you want to go?" 

Sirius grinned. "Come aboard my ship, and I'll plunder yer booty and shiver yer timbers! Aye, _The Naked Werewolf_ be the finest ship in these here waters. Yarr!" 

"I thought you wanted to hunt for buried treasure?" Remus said as he turned north onto the main coastal road. "You know that will be easier if we have the car. Not that I think you'll find anything. That girl said people have been looking for about three hundred years, and no one's ever found it." 

"That's because they didn't have one of these," Sirius informed him, waving the wand dramatically, and causing a shower of crimson sparks to fall into Remus's lap. 

Remus pursed his lips. "I'd appreciate a little basic wand safety while I'm driving, Padfoot. You'll have my eye out next. And no, I would _not_ look fetching in an eye patch." 

"Oh, I very much disagree, Moony. But I like your eyes, so I suppose I'll let you keep them." He tucked the wand into his belt. 

"Thank you, Padfoot. Your courtesy is much appreciated. So, how do you propose we go about this?" 

Sirius watched the beach sweep past the car thoughtfully for a moment. 

"Do you know any Latin, Moony?" 

"A bit," Remus admitted. "I spent some time studying magical theory while you were -- gone." 

Sirius nodded. "Spells are just the right combination of Latinate words, plus power and intent, aren't they? I've never really understood it, but it's true, isn't it?" 

"Pretty much." 

"So what would be the words for 'find lost gold'?" 

Remus thought for a moment. " _Invenio aureum perirum_ , or some such, I think." 

" _Invenio aureum perirum_ ," Sirius repeated, and the wand nearly leapt out of his hand. 

"It's definitely pulling toward something!" Sirius said excitedly. "It's like -- remember when your dad took us fishing that one time?" 

Remus smiled at the memory. Sirius had been so surprised upon hooking his first fish that it had jerked the pole out of his hands. James had dived into the water to retrieve it, effectively scaring away all the fish. 

"So tell me where to go, Padfoot." 

Sirius's attention was almost entirely focussed on controlling the wand in his grip. 

"Keep heading this way, for now. I'll let you know if it wants us to turn. Although you'll probably be able to tell when it drags me halfway out of the car." 

"Didn't I tell you you should buckle your seat belt, Padfoot?" 

Sirius scowled. "Too late now. I can't take my hands off this damn thing or it will go flying, and we'll never see it again." 

"That's the problem with inventing new spells," Remus admitted. "They're not always as tame as the ones we use every day. That's why the Ministry monitors the creation of new spells so carefully." 

" _Now_ he tells me," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. His arms wrenched suddenly sideways. "Turn here!" 

"I can't," said Remus. "There's no road." 

"Then take the next bloody right, and I'll just try to keep this thing from putting my eye out." 

"Oh, come now, Padfoot; if I'd look fetching in an eye patch, you would look downright dashing." 

* * *

The wand led them to a deserted stretch of beach along the eastern shore of the island. The sand sloped rather more steeply here, and the waves came farther up at low tide, making it less ideal for sunbathing tourists than the island's more gently-sloping western shore, which got the afternoon sunlight. 

Remus parked the car on the sand, and attempted to contain his amusement, walking sedately behind as Sirius was yanked to and fro by the treasure-hunting spell. With one final tug, the wand threw Sirius to the ground and began to burrow point-first into the sand, not far from the base of a large palm tree. 

"Who needs a treasure map?" Sirius panted, letting go at last. 

The instant his fingers left the wand, it stilled, projecting vertically from the sand like a maypole. Sirius stared at it. 

Remus laughed. "Of course! It needs contact with your magic to keep the spell going!" 

"You mean I could have let go at any time, and it would have just stopped?" Sirius scowled, prodding the wand cautiously with one finger. It remained still. 

"What are you complaining about?" said Remus. "You wanted to find treasure, didn't you? Untamed magic is unpredictable; the spell might not have worked twice. At least it got us here." 

Sirius rose to his knees. "Well, let's see what your classical education is worth, Moony." 

He transformed into Padfoot, and began to dig, huge paws sending the sand flying in all directions. His fur was thick with clinging sand before his claws scraped against something that sounded like wood. 

Remus came to kneel beside him, and began scooping with a large seashell as Sirius turned human again and spat out a mouthful of sand. 

"Slytherin's arse! That stuff tastes bloody awful!" he declared, wiping his mouth on a filthy, white sleeve. "Like rancid salt, if there is such a thing." 

He spat again, then poked around in the scattered sand for his wand. " _Harena declino_." 

Most of the sand fell away from him, but there were still dirty smudges on his face and clothing, and his fingernails were black with dirt. 

"What have we got?" he asked Remus. 

"Some kind of box. Here, help me get it out." He handed Sirius a second shell. 

"So what are we going to do with all this gold, once we've got it?" Sirius mused as he began to dig once more. "Maybe we could buy the island? And the car? Donate a heap to the Ministry to clear my name? Bring Harry to live with us during school holidays? He's miserable with those Muggles." 

Remus sat back on his heels for a moment, thinking. "Now that you mention it, Padfoot, I'm not sure that we _can_ do anything with this treasure. Assuming that's what this is. First of all, it's not ours --" 

"By the international law of Finders-Keepers it is!" Sirius declared hotly. 

"And I thought," Remus continued, ignoring him, "that the idea was that we were here not drawing attention to ourselves, since you are a wanted man?" 

"But -- donation!" said Sirius hopefully. 

Remus shook his head. "I don't think so, Padfoot. Until we find Peter, I fear it's life on the run for us." 

"It doesn't have to be, for you." Sirius's voice was quiet now. 

Remus looked up at him and smiled. "Of course it does, Padfoot. Where else would I be? At home, worrying every second that you'd done something rash and gotten yourself captured? I couldn't." 

Sirius reluctantly returned the smile. "I'd kiss you right now, Moony, but I promise you don't want to taste this sand." 

"On account, then," said Remus. "Let's get this thing out of here before we decide what we're going to do with it." 

The sun was casting long, palm-shaped shadows across them by the time they managed to carefully work the box free. It was an old, ironbound chest, about the size of a small suitcase, and it was very heavy. 

" _Alohomora_ ," muttered Remus, and the rusty iron lock snapped open. 

For a moment, the two men only stared the the chest, as if a boggart were lurking inside it, ready to spring out at them. 

"Do you want to open it, or shall I?" Remus asked. 

"Together," Sirius replied, laying a hand on the chest's lid. 

Remus nodded, and together they raised the lid, the rusty hinges squeaking in protest. Then the evening light caught the contents of the chest, and they were momentarily dazzled. Not only gold coins and other objects, but gemstones sparkled in the setting sun, scattered amongst the darkness of tarnished silver. 

"Oh," said Remus faintly. "It's real." 

Laughing, Sirius dove headfirst into the chest and came up with double handfuls of gold coins, which poured between his fingers. 

"Come on, Moony! Put your hands in there! See what wealth feels like!" 

"I can't," Remus reminded him. "There's silver." 

"Oh. Right," said Sirius, sobering up slightly. "So what _are_ we going to do with this stuff, now that it's real?" 

"Dunno," replied Remus, still staring at the treasure. "Maybe we could phone it in anonymously to the local historical society?" 

"That's my Moony," Sirius said with great affection, picking up a golden goblet and turning it over in his hands. "Always ready with the most boring solution." 

"Well, it would be the right thing to do," admonished Remus. "After all, this treasure is part of the island's history, and proves that pirates really did use it as a --" 

But Sirius was not listening. He rose, walked to the other side of the palm tree and held the goblet up to the light, brow furrowed. 

"What is it?" Remus asked nervously. 

When Sirius was silent for that long, it was rarely a good thing. 

"It's got writing on it," he said at last. There was an odd note to his voice. 

" _Whosoever takes this cup,_  
_And it not belong to he,_  
_Will die before two years are up,_  
_A prisoner, though he be free._ "

A shiver passed down Remus's spine, though the evening was still warm. His chest felt suddenly tight. 

"That's not funny, Sirius," he said sharply. "Put it down." 

Sirius turned back toward him and smiled, golden light reflecting from the goblet onto his face. 

"Moony, it's just Muggle nonsense." 

"I don't care. It makes my skin crawl, just thinking about it." 

Sirius shrugged. "If it bothers you that much, I'll put it back." 

He came back to where Remus was kneeling and set the goblet to one side of the chest. Remus stared at it, feeling slightly nauseated. 

"I don't like it," he said. "You're on the run. Anything could happen." 

Sirius rolled his eyes. "And that was just as true _before_ I touched the sodding cup, Moony!" 

Carefully avoiding the goblet, Remus laid a hand on Sirius's arm. His eyes were full of pleading. 

"I've only just found you, Padfoot. I don't want to even think about losing you again." 

Sirius relented, covering Remus's hand with his own. 

"I didn't _take_ it; I only _touched_ it. It's fine, Moony. I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me." 

Remus still looked worried. 

"What do you want me to do, Moony?" 

Shaking his head, Remus transferred his gaze back to the treasure. 

"I say we bury it. Cover it up again and forget we ever found it." 

Sirius looked regretfully at the fortune in gold and gems. At last, he sighed. 

"All right. If it makes you happy, Moony. But two years from now, I'm going to say 'I told you so', and we'll have a laugh about it, then come back and get it." 

Reluctantly, Remus smiled a little. Sirius reached up to touch his chin, forcing the other man to look into his eyes. 

"Look at me, Moony," he said. "Nothing. Is. Going. To. Happen. Now, kiss me." 

"Sand and all?" Remus asked, blinking back a sudden, inexplicable moisture in his eyes. 

"Sand and all." 

Whatever they might taste like, they were Sirius's lips, and Remus loved the feel of them pressed against his own. 

"Treasure beyond value," he whispered a moment later. "What do pirates know?" 

Sirius grinned. "Does Banji do those drinks with the little umbrellas in?" 

"Forgiven him, have you?" Remus arched an eyebrow. 

"For thinking you're a sexy beast?" Sirius said, eyes glinting. "No, not really. Though who could blame him? No, you just have no idea how thirsty I am right now." 

Remus grinned. "Come on, then. I'll let you use my employee discount if you promise to be nice." 

A few waves of their wands, and it was as if they had never been there. The sand lay smooth and anonymous over Arthur Catt's lost treasure as the two men turned their backs on it and walked to the car, hand in hand.


	9. Cake and Karaoke

Sirius must have believed what he had told Remus about the inscription on the goblet being "Muggle nonsense", for Remus did not notice any change in his mood or behaviour in the days following their adventure. But Remus could not shake the dark cloud of worry that had settled over his own thoughts. The words, " _a prisoner, though he be free,_ " sounded ominously like Sirius's current situation, but then, the reason Remus had never taken Divination was that he thought most "predictions" sounded so vague that their words could be twisted to fit almost any circumstances.

However, even Remus forgot about the goblet when Harry's letter arrived toward the end of July. When the owl swooped through the window, Sirius nearly tackled it for joy, leaving the bird indignant and distinctly ruffled, and Sirius with a couple of deep gouges in one arm. He took no notice of these, but Remus made him sit still, and dabbed ointment on the wounds while Sirius eagerly tore open Harry's letter and read it aloud.

> _Dear Sirius,_
> 
> _Nothing much going on here. Life with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia is as dull as ever, though they've been a bit more careful about how they treat me since I told them about you. Mostly they just ignore me and focus on Dudley instead. But I guess they need to, or he'd be sneaking into the kitchen or off to the shops every five minutes._
> 
> _Dudley's on this strict diet from his school because he can't fit into their uniforms anymore. I about laughed myself sick. Aunt Petunia cried a lot, and Uncle Vernon shouted (not at me, for once), but in the end, they didn't have much choice. So now it's fruit and veg and boring fat-free, sugar-free, flavour-free food all around. I think they feed me even less than Dudley to make him feel better. I'd be sneaking off to the shops, too, if they gave me any pocket money. No one takes sickles and knuts around here, of course. Mostly I just wait until they're all asleep and sneak stuff from the fridge (that's a big box Muggles use to keep food cold). Boring food is better than no food, I guess._
> 
> _I hope that things are good wherever you are. I haven't heard anything about you in the news lately, so I guess you are staying out of trouble. Say hello to Buckbeak from me._
> 
> _Harry_

"We have to send him something," declared Sirius, waving the letter under Remus's nose. "Something tasty and nourishing. And chocolate."

While Remus agreed that chocolate was not a bad idea for someone in low spirits, as doubtless Harry was, living with the Dursleys, he was still surprised when he awoke late the next morning and stumbled into the kitchen to find a naked Sirius frowning over a cookbook.

Remus blinked sleep-muddled eyes. "Why are you --?"

Sirius turned and beamed at him. "Cake!" he declared.

"What?" said Remus, feeling a little bit behind.

"For Harry," Sirius elaborated.

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Passing over for the moment the fact that a grown man considers cake to be 'nourishing' --"

"It's his birthday next week," Sirius reminded him triumphantly. "Cake."

With a reluctant half-smile, Remus crossed the kitchen and put his arms around Sirius, looking over his shoulder at the open cookbook.

"All right then, cake," he agreed. "Now, why are you naked?"

"Why are you?" Sirius asked, squeezing Remus's arse playfully.

Remus bent his head to give his lover a proper good morning snog.

"I am naked," he said after a moment, "because I just woke up and heard you rattling around in the kitchen. You, however, have clearly already been to the shops --" he nodded at the cluster of baking ingredients on the counter "-- so there must be some other explanation for your having apparently taken up nude baking."

"It's been a long time since I baked anything," Sirius reminded him. "And the only thing I could remember is that you should wear an apron, because it's really messy."

"And lacking an apron," Remus said drily, "you considered this the next best option? Padfoot, you know as well as I do you could just have conjured one."

Sirius just grinned. "Well, you know what they say, Moony; anything worth doing is worth doing naked. Don't you agree?"

He pressed himself against Remus and offered him another very thorough kiss.

"I very much doubt that philosophy will lead to cake," said Remus, a little breathlessly a moment later. "But yes, now that I recall, baking certainly was messy when you were the one doing it. It always seemed like more ended up in your hair and on your clothes than in whatever you were making."

Setting down the book and taking Remus's hand in his, Sirius performed a little twirl, followed by a bow.

"Ta-dah! Short hair, no clothes. Problem solved!"

Remus couldn't help smiling at that. "All right, Padfoot. Is there anything I can help with?"

"Yes," said Sirius, suddenly grave.

"What's that, then?"

"Er -- show me how?" He turned back to the book and frowned once more at the recipe. "I was ace at Potions; you'd think I could make a simple birthday cake, but I don't know what some of this means, and I've no idea at all how to use that thing." He waved a hand towards the old oven that lurked in one corner.

"I suppose I could lend a hand," said Remus. "But, Sirius --"

"What?"

"There are some places that the chocolate for Harry's cake shouldn't go. Agreed?"

Sirius grinned again. "That's why I got extra."

 

* * *

Remus was actually surprised by how little saucy behaviour Sirius involved in the baking of Harry's birthday cake. Certainly there were moments of kissing and light touching and the licking of stray bits of cake mixture and icing from various body parts, but the situation never got out of hand. It gradually dawned on Remus that this was because the one thing in all the world that Sirius cared about as much as Remus himself, was Harry.

"Do you remember," Sirius said slowly, as he carefully added a teaspoon of baking powder to the mix, "the time we talked about adopting Harry, if anything happened to James and Lily?"

Remus paused over the eggs he had been beating. "Yes," he said softly.

It had been during the war, soon after they found out that Voldemort was specifically targeting their friends. Lily and James had told them then, in no uncertain terms, that if the worst should happen, they wanted their son to go to the two of them.

"If I can't be there," Lily had said, "I want to know that Harry will have parents who will love him as much as we do."

But when the worst had happened, and suspicion had fallen upon Sirius, there had been no way for Remus, devastated, alone, and a werewolf, to gain custody of the infant. The Ministry would not hear of such a thing, and Dumbledore, who might have backed him, had his own reasons for placing Harry with his Muggle relatives.

"I was just thinking," Sirius went on, not looking up from his measuring, "once my name is cleared, I mean, do you think Harry could come live with us?"

Remus smiled. "I'd like that."

Sirius shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Of course you'd want it, and so would I. I want for us to be a family, like we were supposed to be. But that's not all there is to it, is there?"

Worry was not an expression Remus had often seen on Sirius's face, but it was there now, lurking in the depths of his gray eyes.

"I asked Harry," he went on. "That night when -- everything happened. He seemed really keen about the possibility of coming to live with me. But do you think, once he knows about us --?"

Remus set down the bowl and raised his hands to cup Sirius's face. "It will be all right," he said. "We talked about this before. It may take him a while, but remember I spent all of last year with him. He knows me better than he knows you already. He knows his parents loved us both. And if there's anything I've learned in a year of watching and talking to him, it's that he thinks for himself."

Sirius closed his eyes and sighed, nodding. "I suppose he wouldn't find a gay godfather and his werewolf lover any worse than those Muggles he lives with now."

Remus kissed his forehead and reached for the sugar. "All better now?"

"Mostly," Sirius admitted with a half smile. "Damn! Did I put in the baking powder yet? And what about the Ministry and Dumbledore."

"I think I saw you do the baking powder. Why would you worry about Dumbledore?"

"Because of what you said," Sirius answered, distractedly adding baking powder. "About how there was a reason why Dumbledore wanted Harry with blood relatives."

"We'll talk to him," Remus assured him. "When we get back. We can't do anything more until your name is cleared, anyway, but we should be able to arrange a meeting with Dumbledore and see if we can get him to change his mind, or at least find out the reason why he wants Harry there."

"If --" Sirius cleared his throat, and added a teaspoon of baking powder to his mix. "If we can't get Harry, for some reason -- remember how we talked about adoption?"

Remus's hand stilled. A child of their own. Fatherhood. An impossibility he hadn't dared to think about in years.

"There's no war on just now, Padfoot," he reminded Sirius gently. "Not so many Wizarding children without parents, and you know we'd be way down the Ministry's list."

"We could still try," said Sirius, looking curiously at the half-empty tin of baking powder. "Or," he added, brightening, "we could get a puppy. They'd probably let us have one of those."

Remus smiled fondly at him. "We could definitely do that, Padfoot. I'm sure Harry would love to have a puppy to play with when he visits us. I doubt he's ever had a pet of his own, apart from his owl."

"Not exactly cuddly, owls," Sirius agreed. "Have I added baking powder yet?"

"Yes," Remus said very definitely. "Do not add any more."

Sirius looked at the recipe again. "What else do we need?

Remus looked over his shoulder, sliding his arms around Sirius's waist. "Looks like we've got everything. Oh!"

He snaked an arm into the cupboard and fished out a small packet of herbs.

"Extra nourishment," he explained as he mixed the dry and wet ingredients into a chocolatey mixture. "And don't let me forget, once it comes out of the oven, I want to put a freshness charm on it. It's got a long way to go."

Sirius scraped the mixture into the cake tin, and, as usual, managed to get a fair amount both on himself and on Remus. However, the cake made it into the oven without incident, and they shared a celebratory embrace.

"Well done, Padfoot," Remus said, removing another smear of cake mixture from Sirius's nose. "I'm sure Harry will love it."

"Better than boring veg any day," Sirius agreed.

"Why is it," asked Remus, looking down, "that you and food always leads to me being sticky, Padfoot?"

Sirius laughed. "Natural talent, I suppose. Did you know you have chocolate behind your ear?"

"Any ideas for taking care of that?" Remus asked with an answering smile.

"Well," said Sirius, tilting his head to one side. "I could --"

Remus shivered. "There is that."

"Or," Sirius's tone became mischievous.

"Or?"

"I could race you to the ocean!"

He whirled, and was out the kitchen door in seconds, Remus fast on his heels. The tide was a long way out, and Remus had long legs. By the time they reached the water, they dove in side by side, and came up laughing.

Then Sirius tackled Remus, and there was a passionate scuffle in which laughter quickly gave way to gasps and soft moans. The water was warm, and their bodies floated against one another effortlessly, moving with the rise and fall of the waves.

Afterwards, as they lay together on the warm sand, Remus said, "You know, Padfoot, if we had kids, we couldn't do things like this. At least, not all the time."

Sirius raised himself on one elbow and gazed down at Remus, eyes closed against the sun, face serene.

"True," he allowed. "But don't you think it would be a shame to let two brilliant dads like us go to waste?"

Remus looked up, shading his eyes. "Brilliant? Do you really think so?"

"Sure." Sirius grinned. "You could be the practical, stuffy one, and I'll be the fun one."

For a long moment, Remus just looked up at him.

"No infants on motorbikes this time," he said at last. "I'm not as young as I was; my heart couldn't take it."

 

* * *

"Well, at least it's not burnt," Remus said dubiously, peering over Sirius's shoulder into the depths of the oven.

"Right," said Sirius faintly. "But it certainly is big. Is it supposed to be that big?"

"Depends on how much baking powder you used."

"Ah. I think I did use some of that, yes. It looks like it's alive." Sirius dragged his eyes away from the cake, which appeared to have climbed half out of its pan, and looked to Remus for guidance. "What should we do?"

Remus pursed his lips. "For a start, we should take it out of the oven. Careful, Padfoot! It's hot!"

"And then?" asked Sirius, wrapping his hands in tea towels and reaching for the pan.

"And then," said Remus with conviction, "we should go have a drink. We can't ice it until it's cooled, and I have to go to work soon, in any case. We can see if it looks any more promising after a few margaritas."

Sirius was momentarily distracted. "Will Banji be there?"

"Of course," Remus said. "And he makes _excellent_ margaritas. He's hosting a karaoke party this evening, and you're going to be nice."

Sirius's brow furrowed. "What's carry-okie?"

"It's a kind of Muggle music game," Remus informed him. "They get drunk and sing songs they don't know all that well very badly."

"And that's how Muggles have fun, is it?" Sirius asked dubiously.

"It's a lot more entertaining than it sounds, and it beats an evening of sitting at home, eye to eye with that thing."

"All right. Do you think," said Sirius, casting a final darkly suspicious glance at the cake, "It will be safe to leave it alone in the house?"

 

* * *

"This is awful." Sirius leaned across his third margarita and gave Remus an accusatory glare.

"Sorry," said Remus. "You want something else?"

"Not the drink," Sirius said shortly. "That's fine. No, I meant the singing. Bloody awful."

"I told you it would be," Remus replied mildly.

"You told me," Sirius accused, "that it would be _fun_. I forgot that your definition of 'fun' doesn't greatly resemble most people's."

"No need to be like that," said Remus, nettled.

"I was wrong about one thing, though," Sirius grimaced as he watched the overweight, tone-deaf American tourist who currently held the microphone.

"What was that?" Remus asked.

Sirius downed the rest of his margarita and pushed the glass toward Remus. "Some things in life are definitely _not_ worth doing naked."

Remus grinned. "I supposed that depends on the person. Why don't you give it a go? Show them up. I'd take it as a personal favour if you'd keep your clothes on in public, though."

Sirius shook his head. "I don't know any of these Mug -- these songs," he amended hastily, with a swift glance at Banji, pulling a pint nearby.

"You will," Remus assured him. "See that big book up there? You must remember some of my music."

Sirius looked thoughtful for a moment, and then smiled. "If my Moony wishes to be serenaded, I cannot but obey."

As he slid off his stool and sauntered almost steadily forward to make his selection, Banji came to lean on the bar next to Remus. Both men were silent until Sirius took the microphone and the music began.

Remus laughed as Sirius began to gesticulate wildly and dance about the stage.

"What is it?" Banji asked.

"Nothing." Remus shook his head, still smiling. "It's just that this is the song I had playing when I was packing to come out here and meet him."

"You really love him, don' you?"

Remus's eyes never left Sirius. "All my life and with all my heart."

Banji nodded, resigned. "I can see it. You glow for him."

"I suppose I do," said Remus, smiling.

"You know each othah long?"

"Since we were kids. We met at school. Got together when we were sixteen. But -- other things were going on after we left school. We -- separated -- for a long time. Not his fault, though at the time I thought --" Remus shook his head. "Not mine either. Just life. It was a terrible time for both of us. We've only just found each other again. There's a lot of lost time to be made up."

Banji shook his head, too. "That's the hell of a story, Johnny."

Remus's smile found its way back to his lips. "You don't know the half of it, Banji."

"No chance of gettin' between you, den?"

Remus looked at him at last. "Sorry," he said. "No."

"Don' be sorry." Banji patted Remus's arm. "He's a lucky man. I hope you are, too."

"Lucky." Remus smiled a little sadly and looked back at Sirius, who was just finishing his song. "Not a word many would use to describe either of us. But I am, and I know it. And I think maybe he does, too."

 

* * *

They walked home together along the beach, hand in hand in the moonlight. They were nearly at the cottage when Remus paused to gaze up into the night sky.

"Full moon tomorrow," he said.

Sirius squeezed his hand. "I know. Moony --"

The moonlight echoed in Remus's bones, but the pull of his heart brought his eyes back to his love.

"Stay with me, Padfoot," he murmured. "It was never as bad when you were there."

"Always," Sirius breathed. "Every full moon to the end of my life."

"And tonight --"

Remus's eyes burned like molten gold even in that light that robbed everything else of colour, and his mouth was hot and demanding when it found Sirius's. His breath was almost a sob as he pulled away.

"Let's go to bed. Right now. I need you, Padfoot. I need to love you."

They stumbled to the cottage, breathless, their arms around one another, and in through the front door.

They were about to fall into the bedroom, when Sirius said, "Did you hear that?"

They paused, holding their breath.

" _Graw_?"

"That came from the kitchen," whispered Remus. "Where's my wand?"

"Nightstand?" Sirius guessed.

"Go get it."

Sirius padded silently into the bedroom, but could not locate the wand in the darkness. Then he heard a laugh from the kitchen.

"Padfoot, it's all right. Come in here and see."

When Sirius entered the kitchen, he found Remus gazing at a large head with great, moonlit orange eyes, and chocolate on its steel-gray beak, protruding through the window. The cake was gone.

" _Graw-hic_!" said Buckbeak.

"No, Buckbeak!" Sirius cried. "Bad Hippogriff! Moony, you shouldn't laugh at Hippogriffs; it offends them."

"Sorry," said Remus, wiping his eyes. "You should see your face. Don't worry; we'll make another one tomorrow -- if there's any baking powder left. Now, come to bed."

 

* * *

> _Dear Harry,_
> 
> _Happy birthday! It's hard to believe you're fourteen already. I'm sorry your aunt and uncle are being more unbearable than usual. In light of this, and because of the occasion, I thought a cake was in order. I hope it arrives in good condition. It is actually the second cake I made, since the first one Buckbeak ate by mistake, which gave him hiccoughs. Consider it his birthday gift to you, since it really wasn't a very good cake, and I am glad not to be sending it after all. Hopefully this one is better. It looks like it._
> 
> _Things are good here, but I probably shouldn't say much more than that in this letter. Suffice it to say, I am safe and comfortable and happy for the time being._
> 
> _Glad to hear I am not making the Muggle news anymore, at least. Write soon, and let me know if you hear anything interesting._
> 
> _Buckbeak sends his best wishes, too. Maybe next year we'll be there to celebrate with you._
> 
> _Sirius_


	10. A Shadow in Paradise

Remus had been right; Sirius staying with him during the full moon made a great deal of difference. It was still a hard night -- harder than Sirius had expected. Remus understood and could forgive Sirius's long absence from his life, but the wolf was different. It could not comprehend what it clearly saw as abandonment by its mate, anymore than it could resist the urge for blood. It could only punish. Without the calming influence of the Wolfsbane Potion, there was nothing to check its brutality. 

For Sirius, that night was a nightmare of snarls and teeth and ripping claws. It was all he could do to keep the wolf from his throat, while at the same time doing his utmost to demonstrate the submissiveness which might pacify the beast. 

When the dawn came and Remus transformed, all Sirius wanted to do was lie down beside him and go to sleep, but it was cold in the cell, and Remus was shivering. Sirius got him to his feet with difficulty, and half-carried him up the steps and into the cottage, murmuring soft words of comfort and encouragement. He got Remus into bed, pulled the blanket up over them, and held him tight until he stopped shaking, and they both fell into an exhausted slumber. 

They awoke late in the afternoon. Remus was still weak, and horrified the dozens of scratches and bruises that covered Sirius's body. Sirius told him to hush when he stammered his apology, and kissed him into silence. 

The next full moon was no better, and still there was no reply to Remus's request to the Ministry for a new recipe for the Wolfsbane Potion. 

"I know they don't give a toss about werewolves," Sirius ranted, "but you'd think they might care a little bit about the damage they can do." 

"Of course they do," Remus replied, a bitter edge to his mild voice. "They make sure we won't do any damage by being absolutely clear about what will happen to us if we do. The potion is for our own personal well-being, and you're not wrong to say they couldn't care less about that." 

Sirius scowled. "You'd think they could still manage to get it to you in less than two months." 

"It doesn't matter, Padfoot. The chances of us being able to get the ingredients here aren't good," Remus reminded him. "Anyway, I imagine the Ministry have their hands full just now with more important matters." 

"What's more important than my Moony?" Sirius grumbled, glancing vainly out the window for an incoming owl. 

"The Quidditch World Cup, for one." 

Sirius's head whipped around. "England's hosting? When? Who's playing?" 

Remus grinned weakly at him. "I thought that might get your attention. Bulgaria v Ireland this year, and it's on in a few days' time." 

"And you didn't see fit to mention this before now, why?" Sirius's eyes narrowed. 

Remus shrugged and winced as the movement jarred his aching bones. "I know how you are about Quidditch. If I'd told you before now, you might have tried to go back for it. And if there's one place you don't need to be, it's in the middle of the largest gathering of witches and wizards in the world." 

"I would've been careful," Sirius pouted. 

"Padfoot, do you have any idea what security will be like there? They'd pinch you in a second." 

"But, _Mooooooony_!" Sirius made his eyes as big as possible. "Quidditch!" 

* * *

Sirius had been of the opinion that he ought to stay in bed one more day following the full moon, but Remus suspected that rest was not what he had in mind. 

"I've left Banji on his own through the weekend again," Remus reminded him. "He keeps hinting that maybe I should try to reschedule my sick days. I told him I would if I could, but as it is, I shouldn't take any more time off than necessary." 

Sirius sighed and told him he would come round in time to walk Remus home from work. 

Remus was still somewhat shaky from his transformation, but the sunlight and the leisurely walk into town did him good. By the time he reached the village, he was whistling. There was a reason why he had wanted to get back on his feet as quickly as possible. 

Near the dock there was a little shop that sold odds and ends to tourists. Souvenirs and junk food and any small comforts they might have forgotten to bring from home. They also sold small transistor radios, which might, with a little encouragement, be tuned in to the Wizarding Wireless Network. 

He really should have picked one up sooner, he knew, to try and keep up with the news, but here on the island he had felt safely removed from any threat. There was no news so important, he felt, that it could not wait to find its way to them at the speed of owl flight. 

Entering the bar via the back room door, he greeted Banji cheerfully. When Banji only grunted in reply, rather than his normal friendly enquiries after Remus's well-being, Remus knew something was wrong. 

"Everything all right?" he asked. "I know you'd rather I didn't take time off over the weekend, but --" 

Banji shook his head. "It's not that, mon. Jus' customers." 

Remus raised his eyebrows. Banji was about the most easygoing person he had ever met, taking the quirks and eccentricities of Cat Island's visitors into stride. For a customer to get under his skin was unusual, to say the least. 

"What did they do? Excessive drunkenness? Brawling?" 

"Nah, nothin' like that," Banji replied. "Dey jus' look at me like I smell bad or somethin'. Like dey wouldn' be talkin' to me if dey could help it." 

"Racist, you mean?" Remus asked, surprised. That was an unusual quality among Caribbean tourists, especially ones who bothered to come to the smaller, less posh destinations. 

Banji shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. Dey didn' look like de type, though. Most of de ones you see with tattoos, dey got open minds. But dis bunch -- I dunno, maybe a gang or somethin'. Dey all got dese matchin' skulls on their arms, with snakes comin' out at de mouth." 

The bottle of rum Remus had been holding shattered on the floor. Banji hurried over and gripped his arm as he swayed alarmingly. 

"You all right, Johnny?" Banji asked, forehead creased with worry. "You look like you seen a ghost. Here, you sit down." 

He urged Remus into a chair, and brought him a glass of cold fruit juice. 

A shiver passed down Remus's spine. "Are they still here?" 

"Yeah. I was jus' puttin' off askin' dem for their next round. Why? You know dem?" 

"Maybe," Remus said, thinking fast. "Or at least, I know _of_ them. They're -- er -- a gang, like you said." 

"Dangerous?" asked Banji. 

"You've never known anything like them, mate," Remus said earnestly. "Listen, whatever you do, don't antagonise them, and don't do anything to draw attention to yourself. All right? Just get them their drinks when they ask, and pray to whatever you find holy that they leave soon and never come back." 

"Geez, mon!" Banji whistled. "You think we should call in de police or somethin'?" 

Remus shook his head. "Believe me, you do not want the kind of trouble that would cause." 

He stood as Banji cleared up the glass from the shattered bottle, and went to peer around the doorframe into the bar. 

There were three of them -- two men and a woman -- sitting with their heads together and talking earnestly. He let out a sigh of relief. None of the faces were familiar. There was a safe chance they wouldn't know him, either, but he wasn't about to draw their attention to himself any more than necessary. 

"Why did dey come here, Johnny?" Banji asked softly, peering over his shoulder. 

"I don't know," Remus lied. _They're here for the same reason we are; a place without magic -- without witnesses. A place where they can feel safe, hiding in plain sight._

He ducked back into the room. 

"I don't recognise them," he told Banji. "But just on the off-chance, I don't want them looking too closely at me, so I think you'd better keep serving them. If you're okay with that?" 

Banji nodded, grim faced. "Anythin' else I should know?" 

"Just -- if you happen to overhear anything, even if it doesn't seem to make sense, tell me." 

"Spyin', is it?" Banji gave him a twisted half-smile. "All right, den. You keep to de bar, an' I'll make sure dey don' leave their table." 

* * *

It was a long, nerve-wracking evening for Remus. He tried to keep his eyes on what he was doing, but he couldn't help glancing at the corner table every few minutes. Once, his eyes caught those of the woman, and he looked back down quickly, heart pounding. Next time he dared to flicker his eyes their way, she had dismissed him, returning to her conversation. His sigh of relief made the customer whose drink he was mixing give him a curious look. 

At last, as the sun began to set, the three rose from their seats. Remus's eyes followed them out of the bar, until they turned the corner and were out of sight. 

Banji came to lean on the bar beside him. "You all right, Johnny?" 

Remus gave him a wry smile. "Better now." 

"You were right," said Banji. "What dey were talkin' about didn' make much sense to me, but I'll tell you what I heard. I don' think dey're gonna be on de island long. Dey mentioned gettin' back in time for de World Cup, or dey would miss all de fun. But dey can't have been meanin' de football." 

Remus went white at that. "They're planning something for the World Cup? I'll never get a message to Dumbledore in time!" When Banji only gave him a curious look, he said, "What else?" 

"Not much," Banji admitted. "I didn' feel like hangin' around, after what you said." 

"Can't say I blame you," Remus agreed. 

"But I did hear dem make a toast. To de Dark Lord. Is dat their leader?" 

Remus shuddered. "He was. Most people think he's dead, but not everyone." 

"Not you," Banji deduced. He put a hand on Remus's arm. "What did dey do to you, Johnny?" 

Remus turned eyes dark with memory toward his friend. "You remember what I told you, about how Sir- how Simon and I were separated for a while?" 

Banji nodded. 

"It was them. They -- killed two of our best friends, and they made me and everyone else think that -- that Simon had done it. And I believed it for thirteen years." 

Banji gave a long, low whistle. "Is dat why you're here? Hidin' from dem?" 

Remus shook his head. "Not just them. There's only a few of us who know Simon's innocent. He's still a wanted man." 

"You have my word dat no one will know your secret from me, Johnny," Banji said solemnly. 

"I know." Remus laid his other hand on top of Banji's. "I wouldn't have told you if I didn't think you were a friend." 

"But --" Banji's brow furrowed. "If Simon is a wanted man, won' dey maybe recognise him?" 

Remus gave him a stricken look. "Oh, God. Banji, I'm sorry. I have to go." 

Banji nodded. "It's all right, mon. I'll be seein' you tomorrow." 

Remus was not quite up to jogging so soon after the full moon, but he set out at a fast walk down the beach, and met Sirius on his way in to walk him home from work. 

"He let you off early, Moony? What --?" 

Without slowing his pace, Remus grabbed his arm and turned him back the way he had come. 

"Is something wrong, Moony?" 

"Death Eaters. At the bar," Remus said grimly. "We're going home, and you're staying there until I'm sure they've left the island." 

Sirius stopped in his tracks. "Death Eaters? Here? Why?" 

"Why do you think?" Remus asked impatiently. "Why are _we_ here? It's a safe place. But not for us anymore." 

"But they don't know we're here, do they?" said Sirius, looking thoughtfully back toward town. 

"And they're not going to." 

"But Moony!" Sirius's eyes were shining with excitement. "If they don't know we're here, and they're off their guard, we could capture them!" 

"And get them back to England how, exactly?" Remus crossed his arms and gave Sirius a long look down his nose. 

Sirius ignored him. "It's been _ages_ since I had a good duel," he said, flicking an imaginary wand and skipping back and forth across the sand. "Three, you said? We could take three easily, especially if they weren't expecting us." 

"Well, we're not going to," Remus insisted. 

Sirius skipped a circle around him, and ended with his imaginary wand pointed at Remus's nose. 

"Stop that, Padfoot," he said sharply. "They didn't know me, but your face has been in nearly every issue of the _Daily Prophet_ since last August, and on posters all over Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Do you think there's even the slightest chance they wouldn't recognise you?" 

"I've been meaning to ask," said Sirius, poking Remus's disapproving nose, "can we get one of those posters framed? 

" _Sirius!_ " 

"C'mon Moony! New haircut, nice tan, and I'm not nearly so bony as I was! They might think, 'Who's that handsome devil?' but they couldn't think it was me!" . 

Remus was quickly losing his reserve. "I can't see how you don't take this more seriously, Sirius. Do you know how easily they could get a message off to the Ministry, letting them know you're here? And me with you?" 

"How else can I take anything but ' _Sirius-ly_ '?" he laughed. "Calm down, Moony. You think I'm going to let some junior lackey of old Moldywart get the best of me?" 

"It wouldn't be the first time," Remus snapped. "I cannot believe you're being so fucking juvenile about this, Sirius. Did you learn nothing from twelve years in Azkaban and a year on the run? If you won't be careful, I will, by God, drag you home and lock you in that damn cell until I'm sure they've gone." 

Sirius leaned close, batting his eye lashes. "I don't mind when you play rough." 

Remus's hand shot out and grasped Sirius's arm in a grip like iron. He set off down the beach, Sirius half-stumbling after him, ignoring his protests. When they reached the cottage, Remus thrust Sirius through the front door, shouting, "Bloody well _stay_ there!", and slamming it behind him, before storming off down the path. 

He had forgotten how maddening Sirius could be about risk and danger. Remus had always been the careful one, even in their school days, going along with pranks more because he enjoyed the friendship of the other boys than for the sake of the pranks themselves. Sirius, though, had always been one for testing the limits and blowing raspberries in the face of doom. 

But how could he still be like that, now that he knew without any doubt what the real dangers were? Azkaban. Dementors. Persecution. Separation from all he held most dear. The loss of his soul. Damn him! How could he do it? 

Remus wasn't really angry, he had to admit to himself after several minutes of seething into the darkness; he was bloody terrified. The precious joy of the past few months could so easily be snatched away. 

How could he have lulled himself into believing they were safe? Nowhere was safe. The war had ended for everyone else thirteen years ago, but for Remus Lupin, it would never stop, so long as Sirius was a wanted man -- so long as there were still Death Eaters hatching their sinister schemes. 

Remus stood still and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. The night around him was filled with the sounds of insects humming, night birds calling to one another, the rustle of a warm breeze through the palm trees, the distant rush of waves on the beach. When he opened his eyes, he saw stars filling the night sky. He breathed in the peace of the night, and it filled him with calm. 

_Moment by moment,_ he told himself. _I need not be at war all the time, but if the moment comes, I will be ready for it. And the peaceful moments, I will take as well, and treasure each one for the rare creature that it is, for any one could be the last._

With that thought, he turned his steps toward home. 

* * *

The house was dark when Remus returned, and Sirius was asleep -- or pretending to be -- in the bed. Hesitating a moment, Remus turned toward the sofa with a sigh. If Sirius was truly asleep, he did not want to wake him and risk re-entangling himself in their argument. He was too tired for that. 

He was just beginning to settle into sleep himself, when a sound woke him. He held his breath, listening. 

"No, please!" he heard Sirius's voice moan from the bedroom. "No no no no, please don't!" 

Remus rose silently from the sofa, reaching for his wand, and tiptoed to the bedroom. 

" _Lumos_ ," he whispered. 

By the wandlight, he saw only Sirius, still asleep, clearly in the throes of a nightmare. The light glinted from his tearstained face. Remus hurried to the bed and grasped him by the shoulders. 

"Padfoot! Padfoot, wake up! You're dreaming." 

Sirius's eyes sprang open, round with terror. " _Moony!_ Don't let them --" 

Remus sat down on the bed and gathered Sirius into his arms. "It's all right, Padfoot. It was just a dream." 

For a moment, Sirius just breathed, his forehead pressed against Remus's shoulder. 

"What was it?" Remus asked softly. 

"Dementors," Sirius whispered. "All around. And they -- I kept telling them it was me they wanted, but they took you, and --" He heaved a great, sobbing sigh. "Moony, I'm scared." 

Remus gave him a squeeze. "That's the first sensible thing you've said all day." 

Sirius gave a sniffly laugh. "That's my Moony; full up with affection and sympathy." 

Remus took him by the shoulders and held him away, searching his eyes. "Does this mean you're ready to be careful?" he asked seriously. "If not for yourself, then for me? Please, Padfoot. I couldn't bear to lose you again. I can't fight the whole world, and you, too." 

Reluctantly, Sirius nodded. 

"Thank you," Remus said with heartfelt sincerity, and pulled him close for a kiss. 

He was exhausted, but he knew there was one more thing they had to do before he could climb into bed beside Sirius and accept the moment of peace he was offered. 

"We need to get in touch with Dumbledore," he reminded Sirius. "What's the quickest way we can get a message to him without Floo Powder? The World Cup is in just a few days' time." 

Sirius looked thoughtful. "I'd think a Patronus would be the fastest and surest way." 

Remus slapped himself theatrically on the forehead. "A Patronus! Why didn't I think of that, when I've been doing them all year?" 

"It's a good thing you've got me around to remind you," Sirius grinned. 

"Yes it is," said Remus warmly. "A very, very good thing." 

And looking deep into Sirius's eyes, where all his happiness lay, he raised his wand. " _Expecto Patronum_." 

The great, silver dog leapt forth and stood, awaiting its instructions.


	11. Mayhem at the World Cup

Agonising though it was, Remus and Sirius knew that they would have to wait for an owl to deliver Dumbledore's reply. They had risked a Patronus, but Dumbledore would know as well as they that large, silver animals flying to and from the island were bound to be noticed sooner or later, and if there were Death Eaters in the vicinity, the less attention they drew to themselves, the better. 

However, as Banji had faithfully reported, the Death Eaters planned to attend the Quidditch World Cup, along with the rest of the Wizarding world, so as the day of the event dawned, Remus breathed a sigh of relief. They were safe again, for the moment, but the nervous knot in the pit of his stomach did not quite unravel itself. The Death Eaters were still out there, and who knew what mayhem they were planning? 

Sirius, on the other hand, was back to his old self, now that any immediate danger to himself and Remus had passed. He was more than pleased with Remus's gift of the transistor radio, and gleefully set about tuning it in to the Wizarding Wireless Network. 

The match was due to start midmorning, Caribbean time, but the commentators started early, discussing the conditions, the chances of both teams, and the mood of the crowd. Remus and Sirius listened to this banter with half an ear as they spread a blanket on the sand in the long shadow of the palm trees, and hauled out a crate of cold drinks to see them through the match. 

Remus stretched out, looking up into the cloudless blue sky, as Sirius lay with his head pillowed on Remus's midsection, the small radio clutched in both hands, eager and nervous at the same time. 

As the Bulgarian team were announced, Sirius cheered, tossing the radio in the air with one hand and catching it with the other. He cheered again when the Irish were introduced. 

Remus laughed. "Which team are you supporting, anyway, Padfoot?" 

Sirius shrugged. "Does it matter? It's been so long, I don't know any of the players anymore. Any idea who's good these days, Moony?" 

"You know I never followed Quidditch," Remus reminded him. "But I've heard people say the Bulgarian Seeker -- Krum -- is one of the best." 

The match began then, and it was more than Sirius could stand to keep still. He leapt up from the blanket and jumped up and down, shouting and punching the air every time Ireland scored a goal. Remus reveled in the joy of watching this display of exuberance, a fond smile playing on his lips. 

It was after Bulgaria scored their first goal -- prompting another indiscriminate victory dance from Sirius -- that the first shadow of the day was cast. 

The two Seekers were both diving for the Snitch, when Krum suddenly pulled up, and Lynch, the Irish Seeker, plowed face-first into the pitch. It had been a feint on Krum's part, as it turned out -- "God, I wish I could have seen that!" Sirius hooted, almost dancing with glee -- and there was a lull in the action as mediwizards took a few moments to revive the dazed Seeker. 

"What a play by Krum!" one commentator enthused. "Even if you're not a Bulgaria supporter, you've still got to admire a move like that!" 

"You sure do," agreed the second commentator. "He may be only eighteen, but he's already got fans in every nation, and of every age. Teenage witches and grannies alike are sighing over this one!" 

"And it's not just the girls," quipped the first commentator. "I can see the Top Box from here, and it looks like the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge himself, is a Krum fan." 

"Who else have we got in the Top Box today?" asked the second commentator. "Is that --? Why, yes! I do believe that's young Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived is a Krum fan, too!" 

Remus and Sirius stared at one another, aghast. Somehow, this was a possibility they had never considered. Harry, when he was not at Hogwarts under the watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore, should have been safely stowed away in the Muggle world. And yet, here he was, in the middle of the largest gathering of witches and wizards in the world, with the Death Eaters about to unleash God alone knew what. 

"Who's he there with?" Sirius shouted at the radio. "Who's protecting him?" 

The commentators did not oblige him with an answer. The action of the match resumed, but Sirius's mood had turned irretrievably sour. 

"He's in the Top Box," Remus said reasonably. "With the Minister for Magic. Is there anyplace safer?" 

Sirius shook his head. "Who's more likely to be able to buy their way into the Top Box than the same Voldemort suck-ups who bought their way out of Azkaban?" 

They listened to the rest of the match with half an ear, holding their breath and waiting for whatever was about to happen. 

But nothing did. The match proceeded without un-Quidditch-related incident, and no further mention was made of Harry or anyone else in the Top Box. When at last Krum caught the Snitch, ironically winning the Cup for Ireland, they almost breathed a sigh of relief. 

"He is good, isn't he?" Sirius said at last. "I wish I could've seen him." 

But Quidditch was the furthest thing from Remus's mind. "Maybe they got caught," he said hopefully. "Maybe Dumbledore got our warning to the right people, and all the Death Eaters got rounded up before they could try anything." 

But as the commentators' recap and rundown of the match statistics segued into the evening news, that hope faded. 

"If they'd caught a bunch of Death Eaters, they would have mentioned it," Sirius said pessimistically. "Show off how competent their security is." 

The commentary returned, with joyful reports of celebrations in the Irish encampments, but Remus and Sirius could not convince themselves that the danger had passed. They sat glued to the radio as the hours passed, and morning became afternoon. At last, the broadcast turned over to music. 

"It's the dead of night there by now," Remus said. 

Sirius's lips twisted in a wry smile. "The Death Eaters' favourite time of day." 

"Let's at least get out of the sun. We can just as easily keep listening in the cottage." 

They bundled up the blanket and the empty bottles and carried them back up to the relatively cool darkness of the cottage, but as the soft night music continued, they could not tear themselves away. And so they sat, side by side, on the old sofa, sweaty hands clasped together. 

Remus was just beginning to think that the danger had passed after all, when the song that was playing cut out, and a shaky voice said, "We interrupt this broadcast to go live to the grounds of the Quidditch World Cup for breaking news." 

Sirius leapt to his feet, but did not let go of Remus's hand. Remus _shushed_ him -- though he had not made more than a brief exclamation -- bending closer to the radio, and turning up the volume. 

"-- hard to say how many there are," a panicked female voice was saying. "Several dozen at least. No official word on who they are, but I'm definitely hearing the name Death Eaters thrown around, and it's not a name people use lightly. There's definitely fire, and a lot of people are running and screaming, but we've had no reports of deaths or injuries. It goes without saying that, in a gathering of this size, this kind of chaos can be deadly --" 

The report continued for several minutes in much the same vein, but without offering any further information. 

"What about Harry?" Sirius yelled, shaking the radio. "Where's my godson, you sodding piece of Muggle shite?!" 

Remus, tightlipped, forbore to make comment, but continued to listen as hard as he could for anything that sounded like hopeful -- or at least informative -- news. None appeared to be forthcoming, until suddenly the reporter gasped. 

"The Dark Mark!" she squeaked, terrified. "My God, it's the Dark Mark!" 

Remus's blood ran cold. Sirius, wild-eyed, looked ready to dive through the radio and start committing some mayhem of his own. The Dark Mark was the sign of Voldemort. It had not been seen in the sky for thirteen years, but when it had been seen, it had meant only one thing: death. 

"Harry's still a target, isn't he?" Sirius looked queasy. 

Remus could only nod miserably and keep his tight hold on the other man's hand. 

They listened, helpless, stricken, as the reports continued. Panic, confusion, chaos, and at last, after a gut-churning half hour, actual news. 

"Sir! Sir! Are you with the Ministry?" called the reporter, apparently shoving a microphone in someone's face. 

"The Ministry has the situation completely under control," said an irritable male voice. "No one's dead, so far as we can determine, and the so-called Death Eaters, if that's who they were, have dispersed." 

"Did you catch the person who made the Mark?" 

"No. And I'm very busy. Please be so good as to get that thing out of my face and let me be about my business." 

Remus and Sirius let out the breaths they had been holding. 

"He's all right, Padfoot," Remus assured him, laying his free hand over their clasped ones. "You know if anything happened to Harry, it would be all over the news straight away." 

Sirius shook his head. "I can't get my head around the idea of him being famous. He's just -- Harry." 

Remus gave him a wan smile. "I worked with him for a year, Padfoot, and you know what he did for you that last night. He's not _just_ Harry. He's a pretty amazing kid." 

They listened on into the night, but no further light was cast on the incident. The name of Harry Potter was not mentioned, but there was some speculation about the possible involvement of Sirius Black. 

* * *

The first rays of the sun streamed in at the window, and found them where they had fallen, sprawled on the sofa, tangled in one another's arms. Birdsong drowned out the soft static coming from the transistor radio. The tuning charm had worn off in the night. It was an altogether peaceful scene until, with a preemptory knock, the front door burst open. 

"Remus! Remus, are you -- _Oh!_ " 

The figure in the doorway clasped her hands over her mouth in horrified embarrassment as Remus, naked, leapt to his feet, shoving Sirius behind him. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to --" 

"What are you doing here?" Remus's voice cut through the apology. 

Too shocked yet even to look away, she stammered, "I -- I've been called back. There was an -- an incident at the World Cup last night. I just -- er -- stopped off here on the way, in case you hadn't --" 

"Who is it?" 

It was clearly too late for Sirius to hide. He peered curiously at the young woman over Remus's shoulder. Their visitor's eyes widened in shock. She fumbled for her wand. 

"Nymphadora --" Remus began, attempting without much hope to forestall an unpleasant scene. 

" _Is that my cousin?!_ " they cried in unified disbelief. 

Remus sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Yes, I'm afraid it is." 

Opening his eyes, and commending his soul to whatever divine power ran the universe, Remus stepped into the breech. 

"Padfoot, don't move," he ordered. "She's a trained Auror." 

As Sirius froze, Remus turned to the young woman, uncertainly pointing her wand at the two naked men. 

"Nymphadora -- Tonks," he began, a note of pleading in his voice. "Please, listen to me. Sirius is innocent of the charges against him. I have seen proof." 

"What proof?" she asked, voice quavering. 

Remus shook his head. "Please, could we just sit down and talk for a minute?" The corner of his mouth lifted ironically. "You can see we're not armed." 

"Where are your wands?" 

He inclined his head. "In the bedroom. You'll find them both in the drawer of the nightstand." 

Eyeing them with clear ambivalence, she edged her way across the room, keeping them covered with her wand. 

"Stay where I can see you," she ordered. "Move slowly." 

They did as she bid them, staying in her line of sight as she ducked into the bedroom and retrieved the wands. 

"Can we talk now?" Remus asked. 

"If you can do it quickly," she said. "I'm in a hurry." 

"You've got no backup here, Tonks," he reminded her. "And no chance of getting any. Even if you arrest us, you've got no way to transport us back to England." 

She bit her lip. "I could probably think of something." 

"Maybe so," allowed Remus. "But I'd rather we resolved this here. Sirius and I are both willing to submit ourselves to Sneakoscope or Veritaserum or any other method of interrogation you choose." 

"Are we?" Sirius asked, surprised. 

"Yes, Padfoot. We are." 

"It doesn't matter," Tonks said. "I haven't got any of that stuff with me." 

"You've got our wands," he said. "Let's sit down like reasonable people and talk this over. If we can convince you Sirius is innocent, you'll give back our wands and be on your way." 

"And if you can't convince me?" she asked. 

Remus pursed his lips. "I don't know. Probably, we'll run like hell." 

A nervous laugh burst from between her lips, and she lowered her wand slightly. 

"All right," she said. "Talk. But you'd better be quick about it." 

"Do you mind if we --?" Remus asked, indicating his unclothed state. 

She was definitely finding the bizarre situation somewhat funny now. "Get dressed. No escape attempts." 

"My word of honour," Remus assured her as the two of them ducked into the bedroom. 

"Moony," Sirius hissed. "Since when is my baby cousin an Auror, and what's she doing here?" 

Remus shrugged into a shirt and reached for a pair of shorts. "Recovering from an unhappy romance," he whispered. 

"You _knew_ she was here?" Sirius asked in disbelief. 

"The Caribbean's a big place, Padfoot. I didn't think she'd drop by unannounced for a social call." 

"But she knew where to find you!" Sirius accused. "Did you give her the bloody address?" 

"I have excellent hearing," called Tonks's voice from the sitting room. "If you're dressed, I suggest you come have your discussion out here." 

"Sorry," said Remus, as he and Sirius exited the bedroom, hands clasped together. "But he's got a point. How did you find me?" 

"I asked around the village." 

With a flick of her wand, she indicated that they should have a seat on the sofa. She crouched across the coffee table from them. 

"No one seemed to know a Remus Lupin. There was a very stubborn bartender who adamantly denied knowledge of anyone fitting your description, until I managed to convince him that I was a friend. I did think that was very odd, but I get it now. You've even got Muggles covering for you." 

"Banji's a friend, Tonks," Remus told her. "I trust him." 

"You _told_ him we were in hiding?!" Sirius exclaimed. "Moony, he's not your best mate. He just fancies you, for God's sake!" 

"Well, I had to tell him something, after those Death Eaters came in," Remus said reasonably. 

"Death Eaters?" said Tonks. "Here? When?" 

"Calm down," Remus told her. "I've already informed Dumbledore. They left days ago." 

"Right," she said. "Now, you were going to prove something to me, I believe?" 

Remus nodded. "Show her your arms, Padfoot." 

Not taking his eyes off Remus, Sirius held out his hands, palms up, so that she could see he forearms. 

"No Dark Mark," said Remus. "Not a skull or a snake anywhere. Neither he nor I have ever supported Voldemort." 

She flinched at the name, but only said, "That's not proof. Even You-Know-Who isn't thick enough to go around branding his secret agents for all the world to see." 

"All right, how about this?" Sirius said, glaring up into her eyes. "Your mother got herself tossed out of my family for marrying your father, just because he was Muggleborn. Do you really think that type would welcome someone like me? Someone who disgraces his name and taints his blood by frequently engaging in buggery with a werewolf?" 

Tonks half-rose and took a step back, looking wide-eyed from one man to the other. 

"Remus? You're not --?" she gasped at last. 

"Woof," he said irritably. "Padfoot, we're supposed to be getting her on our side, not shocking her into convulsions." 

"But -- werewolves are _monsters_ \--" 

"Thanks," Remus said drily. "Yes, I'm a werewolf. It's a matter of public record, though I don't exactly go shouting it from the rooftops, for reasons that you are currently demonstrating. I've been one as long as you've known me, Tonks -- since before you were born. But that is neither here nor there." 

He leaned toward her earnestly. "You want proof that Sirius is innocent, that you can see and touch. We can't give you that. The truth is, Peter Pettigrew set Sirius up to take the fall for him. He betrayed Lily and James Potter. He's responsible for the deaths of all those Muggles. Tonks, Peter Pettigrew is alive. I've seen him. And I'm not the only one. Dumbledore knows it, too. And Harry. Harry Potter doesn't even blame Sirius for the murders of his parents." 

"That's not proof," Tonks said, biting her lip. 

"Don't I know it," Sirius growled bitterly. "The whole bloody case hangs on that bloody rat, but you'll never find him. He knows how to hide. He's been doing it for thirteen years." 

Remus _shushed_ him. Maybe they had to reveal some things to get her to believe, but she was still Ministry, and the secret of the Animagi -- Sirius's last safe refuge -- must be kept at all costs. 

"We do have something," Remus told her. "It's not proof of Sirius's innocence, but --" 

He rose slowly, keep his hands where Tonks could see them, and ducked back into the bedroom for a moment. When he returned, his hands were full of papers. 

"Letters," he explained, handing them to her. "You won't recognise Harry's handwriting, I suppose, but I expect you'll know Dumbledore's." 

"But -- Dumbledore is the one who gave the original evidence against him," Tonks said, leafing through the letters in confusion. 

"And now he's changed his mind," said Remus. "Surely that must tell you something." 

"Dora," Sirius said with a gentleness that startled them both. 

She looked up in surprise at this use of her childhood nickname, and two matching sets of gray eyes locked. He reached out tentatively, and laid a hand on the arm that was not holding a wand on him. For a moment, his usual facade of joking bravado dropped away, and he let her see the pain that rent his heart. 

"Dora, James was my best friend," his voice was soft, a tone he only ever used for Remus. "Lily -- she saved Remus's life once, and she trusted me with the safety of her son. I had a good man who loved me. What could Voldemort possibly have offered me to make me tear my whole life to pieces?" 

"They said you were mad," she said uncertainly, wide eyes searching his. 

"Am I?" he asked softly. 

The breath she was holding from the moment he touched her exhaled in a long sigh as a single tear welled up and ran down her cheek. 

"No," she whispered. "Oh, God! You _couldn't_ have done it!" 

And just like that, she threw her arms around him and sobbed her heart out against his shoulder. Sirius caught her, looking intensely startled, but even Remus felt a little choked up by his uncharacteristic display of his heart. 

"I'm sorry," she said, sniffling and wiping her eyes as she pulled away. "I didn't mean to jump on you like that. It's just that --" she gave a damp laugh. "Oh, _damn_! Why are the best ones always gay?" 

Sirius cast an inquiring glance at Remus, who shrugged. 

"She has a type," he explained. 

* * *

After Tonks left with promises to see Dumbledore and let him know they had another ally, it was a few days before they had anymore news of the Wizarding world. Sirius, initially exultant over the unexpected reconciliation with his favourite cousin, turned to pacing like a caged beast, and became increasingly irritable, to the point that Remus was glad to get out of the house for work for a few hours. 

"I told dat girl where you live," Banji said at once, apologetic. "I hope dat was all right." 

Remus gave him a smile. "It was. In the end." 

"But she found you," Banji pressed. "Without you tellin' her. An' dose people who were here before -- dey coulda been trouble for you. De island isn' safe for you anymore, is it?" 

"No," Remus said softly, looking out at the sun setting over the beach. "I suppose it's not." 

"You'll be leavin' soon," the barman said, laying a hand on Remus's arm. It was not a question. 

"Probably." Remus turned his eyes back to his friend. "I've liked it here. I'll be sad to go." 

Banji grinned. "You know the job's always waitin' for you if you wanna come back one day, Johnny." 

Remus gave him an answering smile. "Thanks, Banji. I'll keep that in mind." 

"But it's not 'Johnny', is it? De girl called you 'Remus'." Banji gave him a long look. "And I'm bettin' it's not 'Simon' eithah." 

"No," Remus agreed. 

Banji tilted his head. "Remus Lupin, who nevah comes to work on de full moon. Dere's a lot you ain't tellin' me, mon. But dat's all right. I know a good mon when I see one."


	12. Rumours

Sirius did not come to walk Remus home from work that night. He was worried until he arrived at home to find an owl perched on the cottage windowsill. Sirius was inside, head bent over a long letter.

"Dumbledore?" Remus asked before he was halfway through the door.

Sirius nodded distractedly, beckoning him to the sofa to read over his shoulder.

> _Dear Boys,_
> 
> _Harry is safe. I knew you would want to know that before hearing any other gossip I might have to share. He attended the Quidditch World Cup with the Weasley family, and came within a hair's breadth of seeing the wizard who cast the Dark Mark, but that person's identity is still unfortunately unknown. Interestingly, it seemed to be the appearance of the Dark Mark which panicked the Death Eaters and caused them to disperse even before the Ministry could take the situation in hand._
> 
> _This incident, while undoubtedly garnering the most public notice, was not the only disturbing occurrence this summer. Bertha Jorkins, whom you will recall from your schooldays, has gone missing in Albania, which you may have heard was the last reported location of what is left of Voldemort. Bertha worked for the Department of Magical Games and Sports, which might seem innocuous enough, but for one thing:_
> 
> _For the first time in centuries, Hogwarts will this year be playing host to the Triwizard Tournament, of which no doubt you will have heard. The plans for the tournament have been kept largely secret. If Voldemort has managed to get hold of this information, I do not venture to guess what use he might make of it, but I think you will both agree that the less he knows of the comings and goings at Hogwarts, the better._
> 
> _Among these comings and goings will, of course, be the deputations of challengers from Beauxbatons Academy and the Durmstrang Institute, but please do not be alarmed by these arrangements. I have taken precautions, both within the rules of the tournament, and among the Hogwarts faculty, to ensure the safety of all our students. The tournament will have an age limit, so that no underage wizard -- not even hotheaded ones who resemble their fathers -- may enter, and this year, Alastor Moody has accepted (albeit with some reluctance and a great deal of grumbling) the vacant Defence Against the Dark Arts post. It is my hope that, between the two of us, we will be able to stop any trouble before it starts._
> 
> _Thank you for sending me swift word of your unwelcome visitors. It is my opinion -- as it is probably yours -- that they chose the location for the same reasons you did. It sounds like a very pleasant place, where one might escape unwanted attention._
> 
> _One final thought before I send this letter on its way. It may be nothing, but there was a second disappearance only a few days ago. This one was in England, but as it concerns a Muggle, it will likely not get much attention from the Ministry, I fear. An elderly gardener named Frank Bryce has vanished. As I said, it may be only coincidence, but this same Mr Bryce was once questioned concerning deaths which were almost certainly Voldemort's work._
> 
> _No doubt, given your caring natures, you will be beside yourselves with worry concerning Harry's well-being. In light of this, I am sending this letter to you by the fastest owl in the Hogwarts Owlery. Please treat Nike to a nice, plump tropical rodent with my compliments upon delivery. I will keep you informed of any further developments._
> 
> _Sincerely Yours,_  
>  _Albus Dumbledore_

"I don't like it," Sirius said when they had finished reading. "That much activity going on at Hogwarts -- anyone might sneak in, unnoticed."

Remus's smile was lopsided. "Time was, you'd have been so excited at the very idea of the Triwizard Tournament, you wouldn't have been able to think of anything else."

"That time, my dear Moony," Sirius replied, "was before my godson was in the middle of it, with Death Eaters skulking around every corner."

"Speaking of Death Eaters around every corner," Remus said reluctantly, "I don't suppose you remember Igor Karkaroff?"

Sirius's brow furrowed as he glanced up from the letter. "I know the name, but I can't say I ever met him. He was in Azkaban for a bit."

"And now he's headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute."

"Oh, you're taking the piss!" Sirius said in disbelief. "This is beyond bearing! I'm sent to rot in Azkaban, while actual, convicted Death Eaters roam free, have job security, and the opportunity to mold the minds of the young?"

"He'll be part of that deputation to Hogwarts," Remus said thoughtfully.

"First Snivellus, now this!" Sirius declared, burying his face in his hands. "How many former Death Eaters is Dumbledore going to let get chummy with Harry?"

Remus looked over the letter again. "It sounds like he means to keep Harry out of the limelight this year. With the age limit on the tournament, attention will be focussed on the school champions, presumably leaving Dumbledore and Moody to keep an eye on Harry."

Sirius sighed. "I suppose so. But I swear to Godric Gryffindor, Moony, if one more thing happens, I'm heading back there to keep an eye on him myself, life on the run or no." His gray eyes glinted like steel as he looked at Remus. "And not even you can stop me."

"Padfoot --" Remus began.

But Sirius had set his jaw. "Do you remember that day?" he said. "The day we lost everything?"

"Like it was yesterday," Remus said softly.

"It was every day for me." Sirius's voice was bitter. "Every day for twelve bloody years in Azkaban. Every day, I saw their faces. James and Lily -- and you, too. All dead. As long as it's within my power to do anything about it, it's never going to be Harry."

"All right," Remus relented. "What are we going to do, then?"

 

* * *

> _Dear Professor Moody,_
> 
> _I am writing to you in my capacity as former Defence Against the Dark Arts master at Hogwarts, to let you know what material was covered in last year's classes. The students have attained a good grounding in identification of and resistance to Dark creatures, up to about midway through Scamander's standard text on the subject. I feel that their education in Defence has been spotty, at best, due to frequent changes of teacher and curriculum, but I feel confident that a man of your experience cannot help but impart a great deal of useful and practical wisdom._
> 
> _There is another matter which I know is not precisely in line with your professorial duties, but I feel I must mention all the same. It will ease my mind if you would be so kind as to keep a close watch on Harry Potter. I suspect this is part of the reason Professor Dumbledore has asked you to take the position in the first place. There is no other I would trust more with his safety than yourself and the headmaster._
> 
> _Sincerely,_  
>  _Professor R. J. Lupin_

 

* * *

> _Dear Sirius,_
> 
> _Thanks for your last letter. That bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window. Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money if he keeps doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out of the window. That's a sort of computer thing you can play games on. Bit stupid really, now he hasn't even got Mega-Mutilation Part Three to take his mind off things._
> 
> _I'm okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to._
> 
> _A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anywhere near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward?_
> 
> _I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me._
> 
> _\- Harry_
> 
> _P.S: If you want to contact me, I'll be at my friend Ron Weasley's for the rest of the summer. His dad's got us tickets for the Quidditch World Cup!_

 

* * *

> _Harry,_
> 
> _I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore -- they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is._
> 
> _I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry._
> 
> _\- Sirius_

 

* * *

> _Dear Professor Dumbledore,_
> 
> _Due to present circumstances, I have decided to cut my holiday short. I'll be catching the next boat home after the full moon -- longer than I'd like to wait, but there's no help for it -- which means I'll probably be back in England in about four or five weeks. Owls may find me on the way, but it sounds like there's some bad weather brewing in this part of the world, so you may just want to have them drop any post that's not urgent at my flat for me to collect upon my return._
> 
> _My traveling companion, whom you may recall, will be taking a quicker way home, and will probably be in touch with you before you hear from me again._
> 
> _As always, please keep me informed of anything that might affect Harry. Those of us who care for him depend on you._
> 
> _Sincerely,_  
>  _Remus Lupin_

 

* * *

> _Dear Howler,_
> 
> _Bad weather has forced me to change my travel plans, as my transport and I were blown off course by the recent storm. Please do not worry about us. We are safe and will be home hopefully not too far behind schedule, though with more weather brewing, we may have to sit tight where we are a bit longer than I would like._
> 
> _Missing you tons. My feathered traveling companion is no substitute. Been thinking about you ever since the night we said goodbye. I still have the bruises._
> 
> _See you soon, I hope._
> 
> _Many Snogs,_  
>  _Snuffles_

 


End file.
